The Price You Pay
by ErosandPsyche
Summary: Draco finds out the great Malfoy line is tainted with Veela blood. On the upside, witches are wildly attracted to him and willing to give him anything he wants. The downside is one witch is not affected, one he shouldn't want: the very Muggleborn, very engaged Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1

It all started with a kiss.

Fourth year after the Yule Ball, with a Butterbeer in one hand and a giggling Pansy's shoulder under the other, he turned his head to try to find her mouth.

It was wet and messy and repulsive.

His conclusion, in his egocentric youth, was that Pansy was pants at kissing. It was his first time too, but she hadn't seemed grossed out at all. He had a hard time shaking her unsubtle attempts at a repeat for the rest of the year.

After that there wasn't much opportunity to test out other witches, but each time was worse than the last.

Yet that wasn't his only trouble at the moment, which began and ended at Hermione Granger.

The war was long since over. Potter had pretended to be dead, Voldemort cheered, and then he was dead instead.

There would have been much cheering by everyone else, if half the fighters hadn't been killed brutally.

Draco Malfoy wished people ignored him now the way they had at the Last Battle.

The lady behind the desk at the Ministry was giving him a look that would chill the bollocks off any man. She was hardly unique in that respect, Draco often endured sneers or harsh whispers behind his back.

"Yes?" she snapped.

Draco took the higher road, mostly because he had no choice. "I'm here for the meeting on Magical Creatures."

She looked behind her and back at him. "Right then, I'll have to check the list." She picked up a scroll with no more than ten names and searched over it seemingly forever.

"Well?" he bit out, unable to take a fourth minute.

"Mmm. I see your name." She pointed to his name with one magenta nail, as if he couldn't see it as plain as the pointed hat on her head. "Please go in."

"Thank you." It took everything in him to force the two words out.

If the searing hatred in his voice could kill…

The meeting room was huge, considering the small amount of attendees. Nothing but the best for the Defenders of the Light.

Arthur Weasley was the first person he spotted, the paunchy, tired looking wizard with fourteen-hundred kids. The older man noticed him, but tried to hide his look of distaste.

The others were not so polite.

Falkner, a peon in the scheme of politics, tried for a threatening leer, which just looked as if the skinny ponce had forgotten how to work his facial muscles. Harvey looked as if she bit into a Wobbly Worm (guaranteed to wriggle the whole way down!), and pudgy Potage squealed in horror.

For Salazar's sake, the war had been over for two years. Draco had his trial years ago, resulting in a house arrest for one year. Considering the length of time his parents earned, he considered himself lucky.

"It looks like we are all finally here." This pointed comment came from none other than his greatest detractor - or second or third, perhaps - the woman everybody worshipped.

Literally.

She had untold hordes of admirers amongst even her co-workers, given the way they found ways to follow and hang on her every word whenever she stepped outside of her office.

She wore the most boring color of blue ever made, cheap fabric, and hair wrestled into a tight knot that would make McGonagall wipe away a tear of pride. Her lips were even pursed as she looked away from him. "I want to thank you all for coming today. I wanted to address the progress we've made on the Werewolf Assistance Group. Head of Magical Creatures, Ms. Harvey, has repealed that awful law allowing the discrimination against werewolves which, as we all know, are harmless and not contagious while not in their alternate form."

There was a round of uncertain applause, as if they were worried they used it up too early.

Draco was here purely for his mother. She kept donating to the cause because of Andromeda's involvement. Though his aunt hadn't answered any of the letters Narcissa sent, she was nothing if not tenacious.

The amount his mother donated made them the top, and probably only, sponsor. As such he had to attend, since his mother wasn't going to step one foot out of the Manor for the better part of the next four years.

"Yes, that is excellent news. Of course, it's not the end of the road. I want the word spread amongst businesses along Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, it's no use if they won't follow it because they don't know. Also, Potage, isn't your sister looking for a young hire in her cauldron shop?" Granger asked the sweaty little man kindly.

Potage sputtered a little, twisting the front of his robes every which way in his sausage fingers. "She might be, I'd have to ask her."

Not so high-and-mighty when it came time to have a 'harmless and not contagious' animal working alongside his sister, was he?

Draco smirked.

Granger easily cowed the little man with a smile full of consternation. "Let me know as soon as possible if there's going to be a problem."

If she weren't such an unrepentant self-righteous cow, he'd have to admit she came off her post-starvation days quite nicely. Those were definitely lovely bouncy curves under her off-the-rack robes, and her skin was smooth and creamy where he could see, like the lines of her neck and flashes of her wrists as she spoke.

His second kiss was with Daphne Greengrass early in fifth year, fueled by a loud Quidditch party and a spectacular win against Hufflepuff. She had grabbed his face and laid one on him.

He immediately had known she had some practice at this.

And yet it had taken everything in him not to shrink back in revulsion from her skilled tongue.

The meeting lasted another half hour as the others chatted about methods to ease the mangy, homeless werewolf community back into society. She didn't mention Potter, but he knew for a fact she mentioned in every press release how strongly he supported this. Manipulative witch. He liked that.

But he wasn't here to alternately ogle and loathe Granger, he was here because the Malfoy money still mattered.

When everybody was finished patting themselves on the back, they left to push papers or sleep or whatever they did at the Ministry.

Granger looked at him straight in the eye and motioned him to come closer.

Draco waited until the last wizard and witch was gone before he approached her. "Fantastic presentation as always. We'll have those creatures blending in with polite society in no time."

Color rose high in her cheeks. "Funny, I've met more people in polite society who fit the definition of 'creature' than outside of it."

"Takes one to know one," he muttered, straightening his immaculate, tailored robes.

She shot him a filthy look. "I didn't ask you to talk so you could insult me."

"And yet that's why I stayed."

She closed her eyes and blew out a slow breath. He wondered if that worked.

When she opened her eyes, her jaw was still clenched. "It would greatly benefit our awareness campaign to find several Pureblood families to throw their support behind this."

"You mean you want me to pressure a few friends to publically announce what a wonderful idea this is." He figured that would be asked of him eventually, but he was going to make her work for it. "Isn't our galleons enough for you?"

She scowled. "There's been a lot of resistance from the more influential families. You're in a position to help people here, Malfoy."

'People' was such a subjective term. "I'll get right on that."

She seemed unconvinced, for some reason. "I'm sure I could put in a good word on shorting your parent's house arrest."

"Resorting to blackmail, Granger?"

She scoffed. "Malfoy, it would only be blackmail if I said I would lengthen their time if you don't do what I say. No, I'm offering to do you a favor in return for you doing the right thing." _For once in your life_ remained unsaid.

"I'll think about it," he said bitterly. She had him by the wand and they both knew it. Granger only had to crook her little finger to get half of the wizarding community to openly spit on him in the street.

He left before she could open her sanctimonious mouth again.

Was this was what the Malfoy name had came to, being the lapdog for the Ministry's every whim? It should be the exact opposite!

Draco arrived at the Malfoy Manor through the Floo, throwing his cloak on the closest parlor chair and calling for a house elf.

It appeared with a crack and a cringe. "What can I do for you, Master Draco?" it squeaked.

"Have a full tea tray ready for me in the Periwinkle Room." His mother had been manically redecorating room after room in between bouts of depression and ennui. The only places she wasn't allowed to change was his father's study and the Grand Library.

Draco's room used to off-limits, but she had been dropping hints so heavily that he finally relented.

Speaking of the witch, he heard her call his name as he passed the newly minted Mint Room.

"Oh, Draco!" she entreated again when he didn't stop to talk.

Reluctantly he turned around. "Hello, Mother." He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, noting the way her tired face lit up.

"You were gone for a while today, dear. Were you meeting up with your friends?" She seemed so hopeful, he hated to disabuse her of his having friends at all.

"Of course, mum. Just a lunch, nothing exciting. What have you been up to?"

"I've been putting finishing touches on this room. I might as well get it all out of my system before you bring home a new Lady of the Manor." She let out a little tinkly laugh.

"I'm sure she couldn't find any fault with your decorating. Where's Father?"

Narcissa smiled wanly. "In his study, dear. You know him, always taking care of business."

"Yes," he said slowly, then excused himself.

She stared at him as he left, as if he was the only person left to save her from her quiet, desperate existence.

Perhaps he was, thanks to bloody Granger. It might as well be blackmail.

His father was indeed in his study, and Draco planned to do nothing more than pop his head in and call out a hasty greeting before going to his rooms per usual.

Luck was not on his side today.

"Son? I need to speak with you." Lucius half-suggested, half-instructed.

These conversations were never positive. It always seemed to end up with his father ranting about the way a Malfoy could not just be put in the corner and forgotten. Then it was often followed up with how people were so ungrateful for all his work saving society from being overtaken by filth and Mudbloods.

Draco stepped further into the gloomy study, standing before the ostentatious walnut desk that had been owned by his grandfather Abraxas and his father before him.

"Sit, son."

Draco sat warily.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Have you ever been with a witch?"

Sweet Salazar, was he going to have the owls and pixies talk?

How was he going to get out of this? "Father, I hardly think-"

"I'm serious. Have you?" The older man pinned him with an intent stare.

Trapped. Draco could make a mad dash upstairs, but that would be marginally less dignified than admitting the truth.

"No," he spat out. And what made Lucius think he had witches lining up to shag him? His sixth year was ruined by having his parents' looming death hanging over his head, and seventh year wasn't exactly a time for hedonistic pleasures. Then there was the war itself, after which most witches acted like they smelt something bad when they saw him.

He was so busy blaming his father that he didn't notice the look of relief.

"Oh, thank Merlin." Lucius sighed.

That he noticed. Draco threw him a disbelieving look.

Lucius negligently brushed off the reaction with a flick of his fingers. "I must admit, I had truly hoped that you hadn't inherited certain….quirks of your family tree. Now, however, we need every advantage we can get."

"What are you talking about?" Draco hoped his father hadn't cracked under the forced isolation. He thought they were coping well.

Narcissa ordered new furniture and Lucius sent out letter after letter in a bid to stay relevant.

"The Malfoys have just a hint, the veriest bit, of Veela in our blood."

If his father had climbed on his chair and started to do the Wizard Wriggle, Draco wouldn't have been more shocked. Or disgusted. "Veela? We're part-creature?"

No, that wasn't even possible. His father always talked about their unbroken line of Purebloods. He even once sent it in a letter once about Quidditch, as if talent on a broom was somehow Pureblood related.

Then again, Draco had been taught for many years it was.

"When one makes a deal with a Veela, you have to take a blood oath and share powers. Every generation after is affected. Certain latent abilities weren't passed to me, but it seems clear you've inherited them."

"Because I didn't get shagged at school? Honestly, you sound a bit mad. Have you been getting rest?"

Lucius stood up, his pale cheeks a bit flushed. "I'll prove it. I have it here somewhere…" He went to the squat bookcase behind his desk, the one place his father always shooed Draco away from when he was a child.

Books were shoved aside, there were bumps and thumps as he searched quickly. "I could have sworn...did I move it...ah, here!" Lucius stood up triumphantly, holding a small box made of ivory and covered with rune carvings.

His father carefully opened it up, revealing a heavyset white-gold ring set with a stone that looked like trapped flames. If he tilted his head a little, he swore he could see them move.

"It's a bit gaudy."

Lucius turned slightly wild eyes on him, a smile stretching his lips back. "This is our salvation, son. It'll enhance the Veela blood enough so every nearby witch can feel it. I know I've raised you to know how to take advantage of that."

Curious despite himself, Draco allowed his father to press the strangely hot ring into his palm. Years of being duty-conscious kicked in. "All right, Father."

"Oh, but there may be some witches immune to the power of the ring. That only means they are not worthy of you, son," Lucius said very seriously, laying a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Do our family proud."

He slipped on the ring, unsurprised it fit perfectly. Powerful antique jewelry often had a charm on it to adjust size for its wearer.

He nodded at Lucius. Time to raise the Malfoy name back where it belonged, at the top.

And Draco knew exactly which witch he would start with.

* * *

Author's Note:

Editing old chapters! Not adding much, but cleaning it up!

HMJ


	2. Chapter 2

Draco decided to wait until the next morning to make a stop by the Ministry. Both he and Granger knew he'd come slinking back, but this time she'd be dancing to a different tune.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

The first indication he had that the flame-coloured ring on his finger worked came the moment he stepped from the Floo into the main atrium of the Ministry.

Per usual it was bustling with activity, the walkways thick with workers and visitors alike.

Almost immediately a dumpy witch wearing a slightly squashed hat nearly ran into the wizard in front of her as her eyes landed on Draco. She could barely tear his eyes off of him to mumble out an apology to the disgruntled man she bumped into.

Draco smirked, smoothing his fingers down the deepest cerulean robes he chose especially for today. The hue contrasted wonderfully with his silver eyes and he knew it.

He joined the throng of people heading toward the elevators. Normally he'd be unsubtly shuffled back as people insolently walked right in front of him.

Not today.

Today he boldly made his way to the elevators, countering several wizard's confused looks with a smug grin.

Poor sods had no idea why so many stunned eyes followed him.

Once he stepped inside of the lift, several witches shouldered each other for the chance to stand next to him.

One pretty little blonde blushed when she caught his eye.

"Draco Malfoy, what a surprise to see you here," came a voice from his left.

Why, it was one of the Patil twins. Given the outrageous floral decoration in her artfully messy side bun, must be the Gryffindor.

"I occasionally slum," he drawled. "What are you doing so far from the Daily Prophet offices?"

She smiled coquettishly, smoothing back with hair deftly. "I'm doing a piece on the recall of faulty lash-lengtheners. The creators, Applebottom Witches, won't respond to any of my letters so I'm coming straight to the source. But enough about me, what have you been up to?"

"I've been quite involved in community services, as a favor to the Ministry. How can I refuse all their pleas for help?"

"That's so great," she cooed, no trace of disbelief. "I was just telling my mum how I miss all those great playtimes with you at the Manor before school started."

All those playtimes equaled a total of twice, not to mention a dozen other similarly aged Pureblood children were there, but who was he to argue? "You were quite fun to play with." He winked.

"You know, I'd love to hear all about your altruistic endeavors. Perhaps we could arrange an one-on-one interview?"

"Perhaps," he agreed, noting his floor was up next. Plus some of the other witches were throwing resentful looks at Patil. "I'll owl you." He strutted off the lift, approaching the front desk of the Magical Law department with a whole different attitude.

The harried looking desk clerk was so engrossed in her paper shuffling that she didn't notice him.

"Excuse me, I'm here for an appointment with Ms. Granger," he said politely.

She had irritation all over her features until seeing him. Then she looked positively gobsmacked, mouth moving soundlessly.

"The appointment?" he prompted, hiding a smirk.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy. I, well...yes. Just give me a moment to announce you." She immediately dumped the stack of papers she was holding and hurried down the hall.

As Draco waited, he heard the elevator open behind him and a very familiar redhead passed right by him.

Grinning, he stepped directly behind her and followed her to her obvious destination - the desk of her newlywed husband, the always gormless Auror Potter. He could see the slim band of gold with its small diamond flashing from her fingers as she approached her husband.

"Hello! Training ended early, so I brought you lunch." She happily plopped a brightly adorned lunch sack on the desk, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Potter smiled blissfully. At least until he spotted Draco, then his face reflected their shared enmity.

Weaslette misinterpreted his look. "What's wrong?" She turned to follow his stare, blinking owlishly once she saw Draco. "Oh..."

"What are you doing here?" The tone Potter used was fairly civil.

Normally Draco was happy to poke and prod at his former 'rival' until it denigrated into mutual sniping, but he had far larger goals today. He focused on She-Weasley instead. "That was so nice of you to bring your husband lunch."

She seemed surprised. Too surprised. "Th-thank you?"

Obviously the better a witch knew him, the less it immediately affected her. Good to know.

He'd have to tone it down for Granger as well, since she wasn't a complete idiot.

"I better get to my meeting." He nodded before making his way toward the wide hallway where Granger's office was. In the past she'd let him cool his heels at the front desk for another ten minutes.

But now was the future, the future of Malfoy. He walked straight to her office and knocked once on the polished wood.

"Come in."

He let himself in, gaze sweeping over the back of Granger as she bent over to attach a message to an owl's leg. She did have a shapely bum, from what little he could tell in those drab red robes.

She didn't turn around. "I can only talk for a moment. I have to run for some very thankless errands-" the words dried up as she turned, some pink diffusing her cheeks. "Malfoy? What have I told you about barging into my office? I will come get you when I'm ready."

"I thought that had all changed since our relationship went to the next level." He kept his tone at a low level of sarcasm, as to not rouse her suspicion.

"Hardly! And there is no relationship between us, Malfoy. I have no intention of ever doing you another favor and regret ever offering one!" Her voice was getting shrilly, cheeks becoming redder.

Draco couldn't believe his luck; of course she was in a shite mood. "It's not that big a deal, Granger. I'm in a hurry." He could barely pull off sullen, what with his ring pouring molten heat straight from his hand to lower stomach.

"What is it then? Are you willing to encourage the other families to support W.A.G. or not?" she demanded, still loudly.

He stepped closer. A stubborn witch like her, with their history, might need less distance.

"I thought you were in a hurry." Granger's annoyance faded at his silence and proximity. "We could really use the help and you've been there for other meetings. It's been an uphill battle, and-what? Do I have something on my face?" She touched her chin with her deft little fingers, uncertainly.

He manfully resisted making a snide remark. Besides, she wasn't exactly an antidote. "I just came to let you know that I'll put in a good word for WAG in a few ears. "

"It's W.A.G. actually, but thank you. I thought you'd be a lot harder to convince."

"Why don't you just concentrate on getting my parents off their house arrest?"

"Why don't we see who you get on board first?" She shot back, flicking her wand and Vanishing some rubbish in the bin next to her desk.

Draco couldn't decide if the ring was working or not. It certainly was doing something for him, he couldn't remember the last time he was this hard just speaking with a witch.

She seemed unaffected, which was very, very disappointing right about now. Stupid ring.

"Fine," he ground out, stomping out of her office.

His first priority after straightening his robes was getting those names for her.

Upon arriving home, he summoned an house elf and set him to writing letters.

While each note contained nothing more than a basic interest to reconnect, any Slytherin worth their salt would understand he was asking for a favor.

Which was a problem.

By the end of the day he received a rather venomous response from Pansy, suggesting some rather uncomfortable places he could stuff his note. However, the next one was more promising.

 _Draco,_

 _Interested. Meet me at The Leaky Cauldron tonight. I'll be there at nine o'clock._

 _BZ_

He read over the letter once more, and penned an agreement to be sent out immediately. After that was done he slipped the ring into a hidden and charmed pocket in his robes.

The Leaky Cauldron was busy at any time of night, it took him several long moments to spot Blaise sitting in the back.

Draco rose his eyebrows in annoyance. Either he sat across from Blaise, as socially acceptable, and suffer with his back to anyone approaching, or he sit on the same side and feel horribly uncomfortable for the entirety of the conversation.

He huffed and took the seat across from Blaise, scooting as close to the wall as possible so he might see oncoming traffic out of the corner of his eye.

"Did you dress up all for me?" Blaise waggled his eyebrows once they both ordered a Firewhiskey from the Tom's new server.

"I bet you say that to all the fellows," Draco deadpanned.

"I haven't seen you in person for a while." Obliquely referring to the occasional picture in the Daily Prophet of the first Death Eater to be walking around as a free wizard.

Draco sniffed. He hated when suddenly blinded by the flash of a camera just for walking down the street. The headlines were always ridiculous.

' _Former Death Eater Buys Books; Are They Dark?'_

' _Malfoy Buys Sweets; For His Death Eater Parents?'_

Casting a quick Sound Bubble charm around them, he nodded. It would keep anyone from hearing anything at all; not subtle, but it didn't need to be. "The Ministry wants me to find some reputable sponsors for their latest pet project, the Werewolf Assistance Group."

"I see." Blaise did not immediately call out Draco for being so blunt in revealing what he needed right away.

This told Draco that whatever his classmate wanted in return, it was big indeed.

"What do you say? All you have to do is confirm that you agree with their miserable efforts to build doghouses and procure jobs for them sweeping the floor or some nonsense."

Blaise didn't look particularly impressed with the favor, growing colder by the minute.

"Here are your firewhiskeys." The server reappeared in front of their table, sliding both drinks in front of Blaise.

As Draco reached out for the second glass, he could feel the barely hidden sneer of the skinny, snotty witch, who was probably hiding under the bed soiling herself during the Battle of Hogwarts.

He slipped a hand into the hidden pocket, easing the ring on his third finger.

"Before you go, can you get another round for us?" Draco asked casually, looking her straight in the eye.

"Oh...right. Yes..." All disdain melted from her face, leaving an awestruck young witch. She blinked at him stupidly for a few seconds before rushing off to get their drinks.

Draco smirked at her retreating form before turning back to Blaise.

"What'd you do to her? Imperius her?"

Draco kicked him under the table. "Shut it, do you want to get me arrested? Of course I didn't. I just know how to talk to girls."

"Bollocks. The only person who was as miserable with witches as you was Goyle-" he paled a bit, words halting abruptly.

Draco blanched, then shot him a look. "I wasn't miserable with witches, thank you very much. I merely chose not to pursue them." Especially after what happened with Pansy, Daphne, her younger sister Astoria, a very strange moment with his Aunt…

Blaise regained his composure and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Look, Imperius any witch you want if you feel like it, but you're going to need to keep a low profile if you're trying to recruit followers."

"Followers?" Draco asked, baffled. "Followers for the Ministry?"

"No, followers for you, you prick. That was subtle, talking about werewolves like that. Going for blackmail, are you?" Blaise looked him over with distaste.

Draco was not normally slow on the uptake, but he'd known Blaise since they still had to use toy brooms.

"Are you saying you're a-ow! Bloody hell!" Draco leaned over to clutch his shin, sure it was going to bruise.

"Now who has to shut it?" Blaise hissed, looking around. The charm was effective in its simplicity, but hardly proof against a more advanced spell by anyone spying on them. Then the other wizard blinked. "Wait, you don't know. Were you really asking me to sponsor…?"

"Yes, you git." Draco tried to quell the urge to lose his temper. "What, does _it_ give you the strength of ten wizards? The bone is cracked, I'm sure."

Blaise leaned back, visibly relieved. "I'm not stronger, no." And he continued on normally like he didn't try to shatter Draco's tibia. "Well, I'll sponsor the idea then. How'd they con you into asking around?"

"They're helping shorten my parents' sentence." Draco said dourly, gulping the entirety of the Firewhiskey in one go.

The newly adoring server was right there, placing two glasses down right next to Draco this time. "Yours is on the house," she simpered. "Is there anything else you need while I'm here and...available?"

"Not right now." Draco waved her off with a deeply satisfied smile.

Blaise went right back to looking at him suspiciously. "What did you do to her, if not Imperius?"

Draco tapped his fingers on the table. "I may be helping her to see my natural charm."

Blaise tilted his head, then noticed the tapping fingers. "What's that?" He snatched the ring, not seeming to care that Draco was rudely yanked forward by the hand.

"Oi, let go!"

"What are you?" Blaise released him so quick Draco almost smacked his head against the back of the booth.

"I don't know what you mean." Draco growled, checking his hair gingerly with his fingers.

"It has the rune for Being engraved on the side. I took Ancient Runes, remember?"

Draco scowled and brought the ring up, trying to see it.

The other wizard snorted. "Whether it's there or not, you already gave up the game. Spill."

He waffled for a moment before deciding Blaise had much more to lose than him. Making a deal with Veela wasn't the same as half-breeds or lycanthropy. "A Malfoy made a blood oath with a Veela, and I'm reaping the benefits."

Blaise stared at him a long moment. "Then you already know what I'm going to ask of you."

That was most definitely not true, but Draco nodded as if it was. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. It'll be easier to search for a Mate together. With our combined appeal, it should be simple enough to figure out which witch doesn't want us."

"Right. Tell me again why we're looking for that?"

Blaise gave him a funny look. "Your future Mate is the only one with a choice, didn't you know?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I really hope you're enjoying it so far! Please review and let me know if you are!

Additional Notes: Still editing one by one!

HMJ


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione stared at the slammed door, still clutching her wand tightly in one hand.

 _What was that?_

She wasn't the type to find other blokes interesting. She never thought she'd ever look at Draco bleedin' Malfoy and be tempted to check out his arse.

It's not that she hated him, she didn't. The War was over two years ago, and he had acquitted himself well after his trials. He dutifully followed up on reporting to the MLE, which is more than she could say for other convicted Death Eaters. Otis Bulstrode had been sentenced with probation just recently and promptly fled England.

Malfoy went to all his meetings with his probation Auror and voluntarily involved himself with the wealth of Support Groups that had sprang up after the war. Of course she explained it away by assuming he was looking to build up the Malfoy name, but today was different.

She had thought he'd drag out his 'I'll think about it' for at least a week. But no, he came to her the very next day and agreed to help, all without demanding anything. Her offer almost seemed tacked on as an afterthought.

She hadn't thought of anyone but her fiance in speculative terms since the Battle of Hogwarts, where she threw her arms around his neck and snogged him as if they wouldn't last the night. She hadn't been sure they would.

Ever since that moment she dutifully followed the path expected from her. Brilliant Hermione, she was going to change the world and eventually marry Ron Weasley and have freckled babies, not necessarily in that order.

She was one month away from marrying him; she had the ring and the promise. She had the fantastic job, moved from Head of the Department of Magical Beings right into Deputy Head of the Magical Law Enforcement.

Before long she'd be head of the largest department in the Ministry of Magic. If she wished it, perhaps one day she might run for Minister.

 _So what happened today?_

Today she looked at Draco Malfoy as if he could haul her up and lay her back on her desk...and she would welcome it. She really hoped he didn't know Legilimency.

There had always been a pull toward him, if she were honest. In the most honest, somewhat resentful, part of her heart, she knew she just paid more attention to him. He had that ability to suck the air from the room, she was always aware of where he was and what he was doing when they shared space.

Here she had always told herself it was because she disliked him so much. Because he was dangerous, because he made poor choices in life, and in his ideology.

Now she was left with the disturbing notion that she had paid him so much passive attention was because she was _attracted_ to him. It made her think of that whole 'I missed a class because I was thinking about Malfoy' in a much different light.

Perhaps she could pretend that last meeting never happened, and continue on with her day as if she hadn't felt like her nerve endings were on fire moments ago. Perhaps.

* * *

Draco stumbled through the Floo, thoroughly foxed. He'd admit it. He was plastered, pissed, shitfaced. At one point he possibly ordered drinks for the whole bar.

He groaned, gripping his head. He was pretty sure he kissed a whey-faced witch and spurned her just as fast.

It was all Blaise's fault. ' _She's your Mate'._

That was assuming that the ring left Granger as cold as a witch's tit in winter. She could have been interested and hid it better than most. But Blaise said infatuated, not interested. Infatuated was a whole different matter.

And yet this seemed as unlikely as Longbottom taking over as Potions Master, or Pansy becoming a sweet person.

Blaise had only admitted very little of his past; his father had infected both Blaise and his mother before he was put down. It certainly explained something morbid about those supposed accidents the wizards' had after marrying the Zabini's mum.

Werewolves had Mates. Veelas had Mates. A Mate, one Mate for the rest of their lives. They just had to claim them once they found them, and afterward they never had to worry about carnally attracting the wrong witch or wizard.

Blaise worried because his mother had yet to find hers after twenty years of searching. He worried he would share the same fate.

Draco was terrified he already found his.

Was it Granger? Would she hex his bits off if he asked her how damp he made her knickers? Undoubtedly.

He took himself upstairs - ignoring the tsks and judgmental whispers from the portraits - and collapsed on his bed. His face felt funny and hot. He normally didn't imbibe spirits in such quality or quantity.

In a stupor of 'this is a good idea', he carefully penned a short missive and took it to an owl himself.

He poked his eagle owl, Archimedes, to wake it up as he tied the message to its leg. Archimedes huffed and fluffed his feathers, but he remained still and dignified.

 _HG_

 _Let's discuss details at 11 o'clock tomorrow at the Floating Carafe._

 _DM_

Once the loud flutter of wings filled the air, he let his head tip back against the chair and the darkness embrace him.

With morning came a headache and a massive amount of regret. Did he really knock back a bottle's worth of Firewhiskey with Blaise? His blurry memories said yes.

Draco groaned as he rolled out of bed. He recalled making plans with Blaise to go on the prowl over the weekend. Popping from pub to pub might sound more exciting if his head didn't feel like it was the size of a pain-filled bludger.

His neck felt miserable too, as if he slept else was a blur, and then a blank.

He summoned a house elf to bring his breakfast up; normally he joined his parents in the dining room, but he just could not make decent conversation this morning. He really hoped the smell of food didn't turn his stomach.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. He practically inhaled the bangers and fried tomatoes, the poached eggs and bacon. He sopped up the juices with fried bread and washed it all down with exceptionally strong and hot tea.

There were several pieces of mail, and he debated on whether he wanted to deal with the responses of his other schoolmates. Pansy's had been particularly creative and viotrolic.

A house elf cracked back into the room, bowing low. "Master Malfoy, you have a guest here to see you."

Draco let his hand drop, and looked longingly at his bath. It was big enough to fit a Quidditch team and had the most luxurious water pressure that melted the tension away. Later, he supposed.

"I'll be down in few minutes." It would be closer to fifteen, he had to look presentable after all.

* * *

Hermione let five minutes pass after eleven before she ordered a fancy Perk-You-Up coffee. For the price she ought to leave here singing and composing symphonies.

Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration.

She just wasn't used to stopping and ordering in a coffee shop, let alone the decidedly elegant Floating Carafe. It offered bottomless refills as long as the customer remained in the shop, and the menu read like an Apothecary. Her drink had Pepper Up Potion, while others had Calming Draughts, Cheering Cordial, or Last-Longer Liquid.

Draco didn't seem the type to be late, if his Ministry meetings were any indication.

Now Ron was always late. He always had an excuse, and honestly she couldn't understand why he couldn't just plan ahead. She even bought him a charmed watch for his birthday, but he never set the thoughtful gift.

She knew it wasn't Molly's fault, the woman had several perfectly servicable clocks along with her specially made one.

Hermione was raised to believe a person who could never be on time didn't respect other's time. She was fairly lenient on friends, but Ron wasn't just her friend anymore, he was her fiance.

They had a fantastically loud row last night about the wedding. He didn't understand why she wasn't already planning it, as if she had nothing better to do. She suggested if he were so keen to have a wedding in the spring that he plan it.

Of course he had sputtered and said he didn't know the first thing about planning a wedding. She pointed out that neither did she, then he blurted out the world's worst question.

'What? Haven't you been planning it since you were a little girl?'

He was lucky she hadn't pulled out her wand at that. Not that she had turned any birds on him lately, she'd like to think she was more mature than that, but it was hard not to.

Didn't he know her better than that? Perhaps it wasn't very insulting, but she felt insulted. Some girls did have a dream wedding, she had shared a room with four girls long enough to figure that out. But that just wasn't **her.**

She honestly thought he should've known that. He immediately apologized and tried to appease her, but lately it seemed like all she heard was apologies for his insensitive remarks.

Hermione supposed it would be easier to swallow his thoughtless remarks if she didn't think so much herself. She just didn't understand how he hadn't learned to think because he spoke yet.

She was surprised to see it was already eleven fifteen. Draco was very late. She really did hope that he was all right. She normally appreciated an owl if someone had to cancel or postpone plans at the last minute, but it happened.

Part of her had been pleased by the letter she found upon waking. He seemed like he was really taking W.A.G. seriously. It was very important, of course, but for him to be on board felt gratifying.

Perhaps he even had some ideas, which she was always open to. It did seem a little strange to feel such warmth from his involvement when it was now twenty minutes after eleven.

She waited for another ten minutes, before convincing herself to get a second cup of coffee. If it really worked as the blurb on the menu promised, she might head home and tackle the cleaning.

Her flat was in an area with a light Muggle population, so she had to be careful before enchanting cleaning supplies. She'd ask Ron to do it, since he was over so much, but he'd just get that forlorn look. She barely even wanted to ask. In cleaning, he was medoicre at best.

Her thoughts had came full circle to all the little things she'd lately found so annoying about Ron. Or perhaps she always had and didn't notice?

Speaking of which, where was Draco? She checked the time. It was nearly noon. Hermione stood up, taking one last drink out of her mug and setting it back on the table to be taken care of.

She head out into the cold wind, deciding to take a shortcut back to work through Diagon Alley. It was a bit of a walk, but the Leaky Cauldron was nice and toasty when she stepped inside.

"Hello Tom," she waved to the owner as she passed by the bar.

"Hello there, Ms. Granger." Tom nodded to her, grinning his toothy smile.

She walked back to the Floo, pausing to think if she wanted to use the loo. In turning to check the back of the bar, she saw an infuriating sight.

Draco bloody Malfoy was sitting at the furthest table, looking quite engrossed in a conversation with someone she couldn't see.

He looked quite healthy to her! He was probably having a laugh at her right now, pathetic Granger who would work on a weekend. Stupid Mudblood, thinking she could step above her station.

Everything rational in her told her that now was not the time to discuss her ire with him.

She could hear his laughter, though, and it was infuriating. Who was making him laugh like that? Did he just stand her up to try and get shagged?

She grew even more angry, adjusting her purse and her focus. She was going to go over there and politely, politely! let him know that while that was very unprofessional of him, she would still be expecting some additional Pureblood sponsors.

Her hair practically sparked when she saw him reach forward and presumably touch the as-of-yet unseen friend of his. She was definitely going to let him know what an ungrateful, selfish, lying pillock he was. Her time was valuable!

Hermione adjust the straps on her purse, and made her way to his table.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Thank you so much for the reviews I've gotten!

Uh oh, looks like trouble! Causing a scene isn't very rational Hermione! Review if you like and if you do that's great! I am enjoying this too!


	4. Chapter 4

"So what was so important you came to the Manor?" Draco asked, sliding into the seat facing the hall this time. He did not enjoy not being able to see who was walking toward them.

Perhaps it was a holdover from all the time he had to visit the Three Broomsticks to make sure Madame Rosmerta was under his control. It was not a memory he enjoyed reliving.

Blaise took his seat across from him, seemingly unbothered by the placement. "I'm just impatient. Seeing you seek out your Mate so boldly inspired me."

Draco hesitated. Well, he actually hadn't been wearing the ring to seek out anything except to take advantage of the Veela appeal. His first priority had to be making life easier for his own. Blaise wouldn't understand, he had flew under the radar of the Ministry and so had his mother.

"You want to get started now?" Draco finally asked.

Blaise smirked proudly. "I already have. Did you see the way our waitress looked at both of us? It's been like that all morning, it's bloody wicked."

He wasn't wearing a ring. Draco must have looked puzzled, because Blaise chuckled.

"Oh, I don't need that. I'm fully…" his voice dropped, "you know."

Fully...oh. A full-blooded werewolf. Draco remembered about Lupin, who was both intelligent and engaging, and the vicious backlash upon learning his true nature.

A mention of the pup...was Lupin's Mate that blood traitor cousin, Nymphadora?

Draco nodded slowly. He could see why Blaise didn't want to say it out loud. All that rhetoric Granger spouted about werewolf-prejudice flashed through his head. He hated it when she was right.

If it ever got out, Blaise would no longer be welcome by many families. Given his infamous and spectacularly popular mother, it could be much worse than that.

"So what did you do?" Draco was curious, despite all the ingrained rhetoric about the inferiority and violence of half-breeds.

"I just let my natural charm out." Blaise shrugged, then smiled. "I can't explain it. I've been concentrating so long on keeping it in that I wasn't even sure I could let it go. Think of it like scent marking."

"I think that's a cat."

"Whatever." Blaise flipped a hand negligently. "As much fun as it's been, I can't wait to find her. Once I do.." he made a strange hand gesture.

"Once you do?" Draco was somewhat reluctant to learn more about being a creature, the word half-breed kept echoing in his head, but he was still curious.

"Once I do, it's done. The Scent only exudes to recognize your Mate. Once you Mark her, there's no reason for it and it goes away."

Draco really had to find out more on all this new information. He wasn't the type to tolerate not knowing anything that affected him. He felt like a firstie, having to ask question after question.

He stared at his drink, and took a long swig back. Anything to forget that he was destined for a witch he had always found inferior. Hadn't he?

* * *

Hermione stopped right in front of Draco's table, losing a little steam when his companion came into view. She remembered Zabini from school, though he never went out of his way to bother her. He certainly wasn't above joining the heckling of her best friends though.

Draco stared at her in the most disconcerting way, a dash of horrified and a pinch of befuddled. "Granger, what a-"

"Who do you think you are?" She clenched her fists tight at her sides. "You can't just set a meeting then not. Show. Up." She punctuated the last words with three particularly vicious jabs in the air at him. Not matter how much she wanted to grab and snog him for all she was worth, that was not acceptable.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said hotly, narrowing his silver eyes at her. "I didn't-"

"Oh? OH?" She was already fishing the note out of her pocket. Which she had simply forgotten she placed in her pocket, she wasn't carrying it around on purpose. She practically threw it at him, but in true parchment nature, it turned in the air and floated gently to land on the table in front of him.

She risked a glance at Blaise, who looked altogether amused and intrigued. Well, he could have his show.

Draco picked it up gingerly, unrolling the brief letter and blinking several times as he read it.

Hermione felt as if she was vindicated. It was most definitely his handwriting, she had seen it enough times. She'd even sent an Owl in response earlier that morning. She would not crack, she wouldn't soften it up just in hopes of seeing him smile.

"I'm sorry."

That was unexpected. It couldn't have been more unexpected if the table flipped over and began to dance mid-air. Even then, it would be less shock because magic.

Draco Malfoy apologizing? Even magic couldn't do that.

"What?" she asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

He cleared his throat and glanced out the corner of his eye at her. "I forgot I sent this. I am sorry. Were you waiting long?" His voice was strangely subdued.

She deflated, which would have ben funny had she not been so outraged a moment ago. Now she was just confused. "Not...not very."

"Can we reschedule?" he queried in a polite, if somewhat strangled, fashion.

"Yes?"

What was going on? Up was down, left was right, and nothing made sense anymore. She was tempted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

"We'll do that then. Thank you."

Hermione was so confused she didn't even say goodbye. She just looked at Blaise - who was watching her with a very curious expression of his own - and turned around and left.

Draco noticed Blaise watching Granger leave with a very strange look on his face. "What?"

Blaise turned back around slowly, his eyes a bit farway. "Did you see her? She didn't even notice me."

Draco almost pointed out that of course she didn't, she belonged to him...then stopped. He never told Blaise that Granger didn't fawn all over him. As drunk as he had been, he had held that secret safe. "You know how Granger is once she's in a snit."

"Still, she looked at me." Blaise continued, thoughtfully. "For a Mudblood, she's not bad looking. Lots of wild hair, strong teeth, soulful eyes. I bet that fiery temper of hers leads to a lot of fun."

Draco listened to Blaise ruminate on the attributes of _his_ Mate - possible Mate - with growing irritation. "Maybe she _already_ is someone's Mate."

Blaise shook his head. "I didn't see a Mark on her. Not that it's always the neck, but...no. Otherwise she wouldn't be engaged to Weasley."

Draco made a sour face.

"I don't think I'd mind if it were Granger. She's really got the Wizarding world in her palm."

"Let's not talk about Granger." Draco was barely keeping himself from physically attacking Blaise. He had attended the World Quidditch Cup with the Veela 'mascots', and he knew what he was feeling. It felt like he had talons just under the surface ready to burst out.

Blaise shrugged. "I wish I hadn't taken so long to let myself search. What if my Mate already bonded to a wizard?"

Draco stopped wanting to hex him...for now. "What does it matter if she is Bonded?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Draco, you know Wizard Bonds are next to impossible to break. It's why they abolished arranged marriages for our kind centuries ago. It would drive a witch mad to have a husband and a Mate, her soul would tear under the dual strain."

"How do you know about this?" Draco felt a resurgence of his earlier headache, followed by a surge of fierce protectiveness.

"I've read up on it. Books on werewolves touch on other creature-made Soul Bonds, like Veela and vampires."

"Can I borrow those books?"

Blaise smirked. "For a favor…"

* * *

Blaise had the three books delivered into Draco's hands before the afternoon was over. _Bitten Once, Twice Born,_ and _The Full Moon Assault,_ and the slim volume _So It's That Time of the Month._

He had several hours before dinner, and his parents would expect him downstairs lest they start questioning him.

He learned a little more about Blaise's future relationship than he might have liked, such as the oddly submissive rituals enacted by the male werewolf upon meeting their Mate.

He also read that Blaise was remiss in worrying about finding his already Bonded Mate - if the person was Bonded by the time the Scent was enacted, it would move on to another.

For werewolves, the Scent wouldn't work on the person strong enough to resist it. Not only strong enough to resist the Scent, but strong enough for the werewolf in question.

He flipped through the first book and second to see if it was the same for Veelas. And finally, he found it.

 _A Veela, female or male, will know their Mate by the resistance of temporary infatuation the Sight of them results in._

Draco almost closed the book in frustration. Why did his father lie to him? He supposed there was a chance Lucius didn't know, but it was a big coincidence he told him the opposite effect was true.

His answer was detailed a few paragraphs lower.

 _The widespread attraction of a Veela disappears after sealing the bond with their Mate via a Marking. There is no longer a need to search, and they can no longer draw attention._

Draco shook his head. Of course. Once he found his Mate and claimed her, he wouldn't be able to use the attraction anymore.

If Lucius had just explained it, Draco wouldn't have been so unprepared for the shock.

He didn't have much time; he'd seen the Daily Prophet flashing Granger's uncomfortable face and her ridiculously large and gaudy engagement ring with the headline ' **Destiny! Hogwarts Hero proposes to Hogwarts Heroine!** '

What was more important, his family or his heart?

Tap tap tap.

Draco stared at his window. Normally owls went to the Owlery and it came through the house elves. It must be an emergency.

Perhaps Granger wrote him.

He hurried toward the window, both irritated at himself for the warm feeling in his chest and the excited way he ripped the seal of the letter without checking it.

 _Draco,_

 _Cancelling plans for tonight. I know you hate her, but I have to know if Hermione is my Mate._

 _Blaise_

Draco saw red as he ripped the letter to shreds.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Oh jealous Draco teehee! Even more jealous of new competition than the old one!


	5. Chapter 5

Draco paced his room, kicking tiny pieces of paper as he walked. He half contemplated lighting them on fire with a jab of his wand, but then he would have nothing to kick until he found Blaise.

Logic tried to encroach that Blaise didn't know who he was pursuing, but it was drowned by the roaring in his ears and the itchy talons beneath his fingers.

Even though he'd read nothing about being able to his appearance warping into all-but-a-harpy like a Veela, he could feel the volatile creature in his blood ready to rip anyone to shreds for trying to steal his Mate.

He already had Weasley to worry about, her _fiance_ , and Granger's own unwavering loyalty to worry about.

She was not the type to run off with the first bloke that took her fancy. He hadn't heard anything about a wedding yet. What if they were considering eloping? How was he supposed to keep tabs on her all the time?

He had to find her, that was it now. If he found her, he could head off Blaise. He could woo her.

Not that he had to be afraid of Blaise.

 _Especially after he...warned him off. For good._

Draco shook his head, trying to clear the almost pleasant feeling of letting the Veela so close to the surface.

He wouldn't hurt anyone. He wouldn't hurt Blaise, anyway. Anyone who wasn't a close acquaintance would be fair game, but not another Slytherin who had been similar things as him.

Blaise had barely missed classes throughout the seven years he'd known him. Blaise never actually said whether his father had infected him before Hogwarts or after...he had always assumed Blaise's father was Antonio Zabini.

If he remembered his Pureblood genealogy correctly, the elder Zabini died before Blaise was even born.

Who was Blaise's father then?

His pacing slowed, having the other thought perhaps he needed to finish reading the books. There might be more information in it that he needed to know…and to figure out the mystery.

But the thought of that furry git getting his paws on Granger took over, and he grabbed his cloak on the way to the door. He knew exactly where he would start looking.

* * *

Hermione smiled politely at the couple sitting across from her. The wizard was very Russian, Sergey Sergeyevich Stanislavski, and the witch a dainty little Swede with perfect English.

Hermione desperately wished the husband was as prolific in the language as his wife. She wasn't impatient, she was simply worried he would grow bored of explaining everything three times and leave.

"I was thinking, yus, that wolf think good thing about, eh, dreaming about home?"

It wasn't that he could not speak the words, he did that quite well. It was his choice of words, but at least she could grasp the meaning. She hoped.

Hermione took another long drink of her Chinese Fireball. It was Firewhiskey with rice wine and Flame Moutai. It was a drink she would have never tried, except Sergey ordered it for both of them. Without Ron here he was treating her like his drinking partner. It made her uneasy, she did not tolerate alcohol well.

She took a deep breath.

"Oh yes, a lot of werewolves have been deposed from society and need their own home again. If we can raise the funds, we have several properties we want to convert to a shelter while they are getting on their feet." It all came out in a rush; when she was nervous, she just kept talking.

Sofia Stanislavski murmured to him the translation of her words, smiling in a friendly way at Hermione. She seemed very interested in the program, but openly deferred the final decision to her husband.

That was why Hermione was here on a Saturday night, again wishing that Ron was here. She was still a bit peeved at him, but this entire meeting had been planned with the excuse that it would be a social gathering as couples.

Now it was coming off more and more like a business meeting, and she could hear the question in their voice when they spoke to each other in Russian. They were probably planning on how to escape.

He seemed as if he were contemplating this very deeply. He stroked his chin. "And they not make, that is, leave to other life? I was boy when they did bombs, I leave. We don't go back for much time."

Hermione tried to recall any world history of Muggles she knew, and somewhat placed the events that happened over fifty years ago. She resisted the urge to bite her lip.

It was hard to explain to a boy who fled his home during war time that the werewolves weren't just being lazy. They were made to register so that they could be better shunned and given no opportunity to live as a wizard. She really did not want to use the obvious analogy.

"I think her program will help prevent children from having to be taken away from everything they know."

Granger started at the new voice, and she looked up to see Blaise Zabini standing by their table. He was wearing a gorgeous teal cloak cut low enough to see the soft gray robe underneath. She didn't often look at clothes, but it was quite noticeable and, she had to admit, very flattering.

"My name is Blaise Zabini. I'm a supporter of Ms. Granger's endeavors to help the werewolf population."

Sergey stood up and firmly shook the younger wizard's hand, nodding. "I am Sergey Sergeyevich Stanislavski. I know Zabini, it is Italian?"

"Yes, sir." Blaise moved to take a seat next to Hermione with a nod in her direction.

The wizard she'd been slowly leading to her point for the past hour completely ignored her for Blaise.

"Good country, good food. You like WAG?"

Hermione couldn't help herself, she stared at Blaise with something like desperation. He could be here to help Malfoy. Or to hinder him, and that would be devastating for Hermione's efforts.

She had spent months vetting options, and the Stanislavski's owned charities and organizations all over Europe. Gaining his partnership would be a coup. Well, his wife's partnership, but the witch just wouldn't sign off on it without her husband's approval.

This could not go wrong.

"The Werewolf Assistance Group is going to change a lot of lives for the better. People need to be aware that werewolves are normal wizards and witches like them. I respect that Ms. Granger has not given up her crusades for equal rights." This time when he looked at her, he gave a quick smile.

The other man nodded slowly after his wife translated, her eyes on Blaise. "This make sense. Everyone is person."

Hermioned leaned forward, keeping her tone calm and assured. "There is strong prejudice still here, and even other countries often look down on non-wizards. They deserve better, and they shouldn't have to leave home. Even you went back home one day, right?" she asked gently.

Sergey - a name Hermione constantly feared getting wrong - scratched his neck as he nodded. "That is true. Home," he bumped his chest. "is heart."

His wife looked up at her husband admiringly, arm still wound around his elbow. She smiled at Hermione, and then Blaise. A little lingering at the last, but he was cutting a charismatic figure tonight. "I think we should consider this, Sergey," she said in English, glancing again at Blaise.

Sergey looked at his wife as if surprised she had an opinion. Then he smiled most indulgently. "Anything for you, zvezda moya. I worship." He took her hand off his arm and placed a kiss on the back of it as they gazed at each other.

Hermione felt a spear of longing go through her chest. She wanted that, to look at someone as if they were the only ones in the room. As if the other was the only important person in the room. She supposed Ron and she would get there, but she had no idea how to do it.

To her surprise, Blaise was smiling at the couple as well. Not that she knew Blaise so well to guess at his temperament, but the times he had run-ins with her boys he always had the coldest sneers. Draco always ran closer to hot anger, and others were straight mocking or cruel. But she had always thought of Blaise as practically unfeeling.

He caught her looking at him, and she hastily dropped her eyes.

"Why are you helping?" she whispered while the couple across from them murmured sweet nothings to each other in Russian.

Blaise inclined his head her way while still watching him. "When Professor Snape told us about Professor Lupin, I was thrilled. I already liked him."

Hermione, who hadn't noticed any Slytherin appreciating any Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher let alone one Professor Snape so openly reviled, was confused.

Before he finished the sentence, her first thought was that he was thrilled because there was a reason to get rid of him. Unfair, perhaps, but she was still rather bitter herself about losing Professor Lupin. Now she could only think, why had he been so excited to learn of it?

The couple was paying attention to them again.

Blaise seemed to seamlessly step in during her hesitance, "What plans did you three have after refreshments?"

It was late enough in the evening that Hermione had planned on having several drinks with them as two couples, then perhaps enjoy late night entertainment. "I was thinking of going to a Muggle art gallery. The largest ones have guided Wizarding tours."

Even she could see that while Sofia was amenable, her husband's eyes were rather glazed over. He would go, but clearly it wasn't interesting. Hermione was used to being around males who found Quidditch and dinner to be the pinnacles of enjoyment, so it didn't faze her.

"That does sound like a good time, but might I make a suggestion?" Blaise looked between her and the couple, and continued before she could protest. "The Burgundy Hotel is hosting the Performing Patronuses tonight. I hear they're producing the scandalous play _Lord Strange_. It was first banned in the 1700's, and wasn't brought back into the public venue until the 1900's."

Sofia quickly translated this to her husband, her eyes bright and hands expressive.

Sergey was already nodding before she finished, and said, "Let us go! Nostrovia!" He downed his glass in one drink.

Hermione stared at them in some dismay, already hearing the words 'scandalous' and 'banned'.

"It's a closed event. Good luck getting tickets the night of."

All four pairs of eyes swiveled toward the young man standing behind them, his pale cheeks touched with color.

Hermione blinked, looking at Blaise. Perhaps he was doing him a favor then? She noticed the other couple looked quite disappointed, and she was both worried and relieved.

His robes were of the darkest green shade, one shade in the wrong direction and they would be black. His silver eyes seemed both illuminate and challenging, almost incensed. They were still...beautiful.

Malfoy gave a short, hard smile, his eyes locked with Blaise's. "However, I have a suite on reserve there. You're all invited as my guests tonight."

While the Stanislavski's cheered and began to chat excitedly in their mother language, Blaise glared at Malfoy.

Hermione was even more confused than before.


	6. Chapter 6

"I need a drink."

"What kind?"

Hermione looked at the modified menu sitting right on the bar. They had quite the selection of free drinks, but that was no surprise.

The Burgundy Hotel was magnificent, truly a feat in wizarding architecture. Bluebell flame columns, as thick as their granite cousins, held sway in the middle of the room. They reached to the ceiling high above, where she could clearly make out ethereal people moving lazily along the ivory and burgundy panels. Sometimes she swore she could see bright blue eyes blinking in their blurred faces.

The grand hall didn't need any additional lighting with the flame pillars, but there were a multitude of flickering fairy lights just out of reach, switching from crimson to orange to green.

The green light gave her the chills.

"I'll have the elf wine, thank you," she asked politely, and took her drink. She had rarely attended events where the alcohol was free. The Ministry certainly never footed the bill for its guests to get sloshed, a result which happened with alarming frequency for each Victory shindig.

She moved away from the bar and took a look around at the other witches and wizards. The first words that came to mind was 'easy glitz'. The other patrons wore it with such casual abandon. Semi-precious and precious jewels glittered inside earrings and bracelets, necklaces and rings as the wearers drank and laughed.

Their robes were formal and yet unique, she'd never seen one with two asymmetrical slits in the sleeves. Another witch flashed one thigh as she walked, and the backless robes were stunning.

As strange as it sounded, all the women pulled it off with confidence. They clearly thought the whole package was beautiful, and somehow they took the ridiculous and turned into glamour.

Malfoy was there, charming the robes off of the Stanislavski's. Not literally, of course, she just couldn't deal with that tonight.

Departing from the earlier venue had been quick and easy, just a Floo away so long as they followed Malfoy.

Once they were all in the large foyer of the Hotel and had staff fawning all over them, she fled. She needed air. And she found herself at the bar.

Sofia and Sergey seemed to take to the pampering like hippogriffs to air. Even from here she could see her gesturing for wine from the male server that had been hovering by their side since they entered the Hall.

Blaise spotted her staring, and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

He certainly was a mystery. Hermione took a long drink of her wine. So was Malfoy. Malfoy was truly determined to see his parents free, wasn't he? She couldn't blame him.

She certainly hoped he didn't try to claim the Stanislavski's as his victory. He could, however, claim Zabini. She wondered if he told Zabini to prove how dedicated he was to being a true supporter of W.A.G.

That would actually explain a lot.

She took another sip as she moved through the crowd toward them.

Draco looked at her as she approached, somewhat dourly.

Which was strange; did he think that she was forcing him to be here? If she had invited him to anything, one could be sure she would actually _show up_. She thought this quite righteously and punctuated it with a slurp of her drink.

Blushing a bit as everyone stopped and noticed her, she demurely lowered the drink away from her face. Elf-made wine was stronger than she thought.

"Where is actors for play?" Sergey looked around, excited as a Weasley in a Zonko's. "We have many theater in Russia. Roos-sky's love to laugh." His accent became much thicker the more squat glasses of viscous purple liquor he emptied. He was certainly a wide, large man, but still she worried.

"There's the Selwyn Theater in London, but only one company produces plays here. Most troupes and performers rely on the sponsorship of an establishment like this one, or a Noble house will host them for special entertainment." Draco recited the information, stepping almost imperceptibly between her and Blaise.

She really hadn't noticed Blaise was near her until Malfoy moved.

"The Zabini's love hosting House parties." Blaise smiled at the older couple. "When I was very young, I tried to sneak downstairs and watch this very play."

Sergey roared with laughter once his wife whispered the story. "Did they do all the scenes?"

"I'm not sure, but surely they embellished-"

A tall, thin man with a burgundy robe and the flame blue logo of the Hotel emblazoned on his robe had stepped into the middle of the room to speak.

"Witches and wizards, please place your hands together - sans wands, please - and give The Performing Patronuses a warm welcome! Remember, do not crowd the plateau during the show, and anyone directing spells on or around the actors will be summarily asked to leave."

He waved his wand and a wide, short stage appeared under his feet.

Once it appeared, the actors and actresses appeared from behind the pillars - to great effect - and jogged or minced up toward the stage, raising their hands. Quite a few wore outrageous powdered wigs, rouged cheeks and mouths, frills and poofs all over their old-fashioned dress robes, and that was just the wizards.

There were more variety in the females, some wore drab dull colors with heavy caps covering their hair, and others had even wider robes in styles she had never seen. Must be from a century or two ago, fashion history was not her forte.

And the play began.

* * *

Their personal server staggered away under the weight of all the empty glasses for the third and, hopefully, last time in the evening.

The others could not stop laughing and giggling about the play.

And that included Granger.

Draco had been very careful to pass on the steady stream of drinks offered. Most of the crowd must have been imbibing heavily, as they were puppets to the Patronuses' strings; shrieking, laughing, groaning, cheering, and booing. This was nearly a hundred people reacting all to whatever the play did.

Now the audience was allowed to speak with the actors, and there were many loud questions and calls for more drinks.

Needless to say, Draco had slipped off his ring before he even arrived here. He didn't need Granger getting suspicious that witches went from disdainful to swooning at the sight of him.

"Do you suppose it's even possible to cast a spell holding your wand like that?" Sofia tittered, taking a sip of some fizzy pale alcohol.

Sergey tried to cast a Lumos while gripping his wand low, similar to the show, but it was doubtful he could get his wand to work at all after a dozen glasses. The wizard guffawed even as he failed, supporting his laughing wife.

Even Granger laughed, half-covering up her pink cheeks with one hand. Oh, he had noticed that she absently accepted one delicate flute after another from the server whose job it was to keep the guests happy.

Draco could clearly hear the conversation people were having with the Performers by the plateau.

"Do you think the broom had a Shrinking Charm on it?"

"How else would it fit under her skirt?"

"I have a few ideas!" More bawdy laughter.

Draco leaned over to Granger, who was progressively turning more and more pink-cheeked at the various antics around the room. "The rooms are eleventh floor. There's enough space for everyone to spend the night."

"Oh good." Her eyes were bright as they landed on him. "I think...I think it wouldn't be safe to Apparate just yet."

More like till tomorrow morning, but he kept his sarcastic comments to himself.

"Hermione, this was a fantastic idea. You do know how to show your business partners a good time," Blaise said loudly and flatteringly.

Granger looked befuddled for a moment and ready to protest.

Sofia nodded happily, "Ooh yes, to Hermione!" She lifted her glass, and her husband and Blaise clinked drinks with her.

Draco noted, however, that Blaise did not open his mouth when he 'drank'. That sneaky blighter was watching Granger very closely though.

Now she was simply blushing, appreciating the credit when it was so jubilantly given. "You know, I've never been invited to anything like this."

"You are employed by the Magical Law Enforcement department," Malfoy pointed out dryly before Blaise could say anything.

She turned big brown eyes on him. "Are you saying they do illegal things here?"

"I'm saying nobody invited would care."

She stared at him with almost wounded eyes, but he noted she didn't argue either.

Poor little Granger, beloved heroine but not popular enough.

Her eyes did uneasily remind him of all the times someone - all right, a Slytherin - snickered behind her back. She wasn't very well-liked by people in the other Houses, but it was mostly jealousy. In Slytherin they really did think she was of inferior stock and deserved no less.

Did he still think that?

He felt uneasy in the knowledge that he wasn't sure anymore.

"I'm getting sleepy. Can we go to your room now?" Her eyes looked like liquid in the light, just a hint of blue flame reflecting in their depths.

 _Yes._

"Let's get you upstairs," Blaise swooped in, placing an arm around her shoulders - Around. Her. Shoulders. - and started to lead her away.

Draco scowled so deeply he wouldn't have been surprised Blaise's back started to smoke. Following quickly, he hit the button to the elevator. "I'll show you up, Granger."

His eyes locked with Blaise's dark ones over her head.

"It's even luxurious in here." She sighed as she looked about the lift, leaning more into Blaise.

Draco resisted the urge to reach for his wand. Just barely. She didn't know what she was doing, it was all that git looking rather uncertainly pleased.

The ride was the longest one of his life.

When the door opened he firmly took Granger's arm, trying to pull her from Blaise without letting her know.

The double doors to the suite were a short walk down the wide hall; the Malfoys had the whole floor.

Once they were inside Granger looked around with her mouth shaped in an impressed 'o'. Yes, she was most definitely knackered.

"I'll take you to your room," Draco kept his hand on her arm.

"You can show me where mine is on the way." Blaise lingered close, his hand on her other arm.

Draco led them to one of the nicer rooms, and opened the door for her. "There are complimentary pajamas and a bathrobe. We'll have breakfast in the morning."

Granger looked up at him, a little smile playing along her lips. "Thank you Malfoy. I think they really enjoyed this. I hope they'll be my partners. You really came through for me. I'm glad you're my partner." She leaned closer and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing the scent of her in. It smelled like honey and almond soap and just her. Electricity shot from her lips straight to his chest and lower.

She pulled away all too quickly for his tastes, and smiled at Blaise. "Thanks too. I felt like I was over my head earlier, and you helped out." She started to lean forward.

Draco pulled her back by the robe, just a little bit, and propelled her toward the open doorway.

Hermione squeaked as she went back and stumbled in a little. Draco quickly shut it before she could turn around and make the biggest mistake of his life.

Blaise looked furious.

Draco felt the exact same way. They were about to have bloody **words**.

* * *

Thank you thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm so so sorry I haven't had time to respond to all your guys' wonderfulness, I will! Every free moment I've had, far and few in between, I've just sat and written on stuff! I'm such a slacker D: But you guys really encourage me and make my day :D


	7. Chapter 7

Draco turned on his heel, gesturing to Blaise sharply to follow. He could hear the angry tread behind him until he stopped in the spacious sitting room, with its long burgundy and gold sofas and gilded paintings covering the walls.

He whirled around, facing his former classmate with hard eyes. "You're out of line, _mate_."

Blaise's mouth twisted. "I'm out of line? Why are you mucking this up for me? I _told_ you I want to see if she's mine."

Draco's blood thundered in his ears, almost drowning out all his thoughts. "She's not yours, Blaise! She doesn't react to my ring!"

A sliver of uncertainty touched the other wizard's expression, then disappeared as he looked pointedly at his hand. "You're not even wearing your ring tonight."

"Before this! Before you even saw her, she talked to me, then she came up to _our_ table and scolded me, remember? I had it on then."

"Granger's a strong witch. Just because she wasn't falling at your feet doesn't mean anything."

"Then it doesn't mean anything that she's not falling at yours." Draco gladly threw that back at him.

Blaise crossed his arms, the cut hitting its mark clearly. His voice was strained as he spoke next. "I told you I was interested. Why haven't you say anything then?"

"I didn't think I had to, you're clever."

"A compliment from a Malfoy? I may die."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you pillock."

"You'd know, wanker."

They glared at each other for a long moment.

Blaise broke the silence first, sullenly. "I thought you were trying to slither your way into her good graces so she would take your parents off house arrest."

Draco froze. He hadn't even thought about his parents all evening. He even slipped off the ring just so he wouldn't be bothered while he concentrated on Granger.

The whole point of the ring was to ingratiate himself into the good graces of society so that his parents had something _positive_ to come back to, and not to have to deal with the sneers and suspicion he received on a daily basis.

The ring that would stop working once he took a Mate fully.

He was trained not to show weak emotions, but dismay flooded his insides. Draco couldn't put himself over the needs of his family, could he?

"You were wrong." Draco finally said, willing himself not to sound choked.

"I see that now." Blaise dropped his crossed arms. "Well, what happens now then? I'm not willing to give up without knowing for sure."

"Neither am I."

Blaise looked at him as if he knew all the doubts Draco had. As if he knew that Draco secretly feared his parents' reaction to taking a Mudblood for a wife. But he said nothing about that.

"I'm off to bed then."

Blaise left to nab a room down the hall Granger was in.

Draco waited to make sure Blaise went to his own room, then went downstairs to try find the Stanislavski's, and try to salvage some of the night kissing the arse of Pureblood heads.

His heart just wasn't in it anymore.

* * *

Hermione snuggled deeper into the very soft pillow, cocooned in silky warmth. Her bed never felt this good. She wasn't the type to lay abed though, and she opened one eye.

Sitting up abruptly, she looked around the dim room in some panic. However, realization rushed over her once she remembered why she was in such an elegant room.

She sank back into the pillows and wonderful bedspread, closing her eyes. She wondered if Ron was finished with his Auror assignment and popped by her flat. She didn't want to care right now.

Her job was stressful, helping run the largest department in the Ministry. Fighting for the rights of nonhumans was exhausting, so few wanted to help. She hadn't stayed in any bed other than hers in ages, not even the Burrow or Grimmauld Place, both where she had a place to stay if she wanted.

Sometimes she was so tired of holding everything on her shoulders. She couldn't put it down though, because who else would take up these mantles? There were many, like the current project, that had no choice and nobody to fight for them.

Alright, less moping and more doing. She pushed the heavy coverlets down and climbed out of the tall bed.

She ran her wand over her formal robe in hopes of freshening it up. It wasn't anything like the what the other witches wore last night, but it was nice for social events.

Slipping the robe on and smoothing down the dark purple material, she looked for her shoes.

Oh _no_. She kissed Malfoy last night! Then she almost kissed Blaise, but stumbled a little and didn't further make a fool of herself.

She gripped her hair a moment - her messy, untamed morning hair - in utter horror. What must they think of her? Did they run off and laugh at her?

She was beset by the want to flee, to sneak out before anyone saw her.

No, no Hermione was made up of sterner stuff than that. If one or both were going to mock her, she'd lift her chin even higher and shame them with a lofty look.

Yes. She found her shoes tucked neatly on the other side of the bed, slipped them on and neatened her hair into a bun. Not perfect, but somewhat acceptable if one squinted.

Opening the door, she made her way down the empty hall toward the chattering voices.

Malfoy and Blaise were already sitting at a table that looked as if it could accommodate twelve comfortably. There was enough breakfast to feed just as many.

"Morning," Hermione said, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Blaise had a smile for her, Malfoy most decidedly looked cross this morning.

"Have a seat, enjoy the nosh." Blaise got up and pulled out a chair for her.

Not wanting to seem rude, she made her way closer and finally took a seat.

It jerked toward the table, Blaise lurching with it.

She just caught his frown and Malfoy tucking his wand back into his sleeve with a smirk.

So she focused on the food. It was a full breakfast, on par with the sort served at Hogwarts.

She took a few pieces of streaky bacon and a mess of eggs. Considering how much she partook last night, a thought that lowered her mood instantly, it was lucky she could eat at all this morning.

It only took a few times of seeing Harry and Ron stumbling their way down to the kitchen in Grimmauld Place to understand that overindulging had consequences.

Neither of them made a habit of it, and if it happened more or less frequently since she had gotten her own flat she wouldn't know.

"Sleep well?" Malfoy inquired, making it sound as if he were notsomuch referencing her health but rather her actions. It might have just been her guilty conscience though.

"Lovely. It's a very lovely room." Eloquent as always, wasn't she? She took a bite of the eggs, it was firm and full of flavor, just how she liked it. "Did the Stanislavski's stay as well?"

"Yes. No doubt they'll be having a lie-in." Malfoy was quite talkative this morning. He rarely spoke at all during meetings or when they passed each other in the halls of the Ministry.

"I thought they enjoyed themselves a lot last night," Blaise seemed to be in better spirits, so she smiled at him.

"I hope so. If they were onboard with our plans for shelter and continuing organizations outside of the Ministry, it would take a load off my shoulders." She was also trying to suss out Blaise's involvement, his own reasons had been rather cryptic last night.

"I think they're responding nicely to your dedication. It's about changing the world, isn't it?" Blaise encouraged.

She brightened. "Oh, absolutely. There are many people who would benefit from gaining equal rights. Not that they should have to 'gain' them, it's really just their due, but it's an uphill battle convincing the average wizard of that. All these things we take for granted, like wages, paid sick leave, vacation, those are not granted to everyone.

"A goblin can hardly get a job working anywhere but Gringotts in London, did you know? By law, that horrible law by that horrible woman, a werewolf must disclose his 'condition' to his employer. Can you imagine being turned away from every job just for something you can't help?"

She didn't even think about the fact Malfoy nor Zabini would ever need to work a day in their lives as she gazed between them.

Blaise nodded. "You're right, that doesn't sound fair."

"It's absolutely not." Hermione was pleased he didn't scoff at her. Malfoy probably found the only Pureblood who seemed amenable to her progressive efforts.

"It's absolute bollocks," Malfoy stated.

She gaped at him.

Malfoy sniffed, making sure her eyes were on him as he continued, "If they really want these things, shouldn't they be the ones making all the effort? Does it really mean anything if you hand it over to them on a floating platter?"

Hermione could feel the furious tirade she barely held back from. "I can't sit by and let them struggle alone. Many disaffected creatures have given up. It's hard to fight all your life against overwhelming odds."

"So why are you choosing to do it then? Makes you a bit of a martyr, I think. You don't gain anything by it."

"I don't have to gain anything to know it's the right thing to do! As long as there are people out there without hope or options, starving and homeless, I won't just avert my eyes and pretend it doesn't exist," Hermione said hotly. It was a funny way to reaffirm enthusiasm in her choices, when it had begun to feel bogged down and trite.

"Saint Granger," he sneered. "I bet it makes you feel good, having the wizarding world at your feet and telling them they're not good enough. You'd be a right shrew to date, wouldn't you, always poking and prodding and demanding more than a person should have to give."

Hermione stood up, gripping the table tightly. "I'm not asking for wizards to _give_ anything, I'm asking them to stop holding others back from what was taken from them! A house elf is magically **bound** to not even speak ill of their family. That's inhumane, that's monstrous!"

"Would you want a servant running around telling all your business, Granger? And aren't you punishing people for having their own opinions on these so-called rights? You did try and free the Hogwarts house-elves I heard." He had just the right pitch and cadence to come off as disdainful and calm all the same time. The combination was infuriating.

"Enslaving is not _having an opinion_. It's an action, Malfoy, and having people cook their own food and clean their own house is hardly a punishment. House elves have to bash their head against a stove if they step out of line, how would you like that? Slamming your fingers in doors because of rules you had no choice on?"

"It seems my parents are in a very similar position, but I'm having to kiss your arse to get them any leniency." Even though they were across the table from each other, it felt like there was no space at all.

The air felt stifling and she could barely get in a deep enough breath, her heartbeat racing. "What? Your parents are under house arrest because they were _Death Eaters_ , which is much better than Azakban! And you're free to stop 'kissing my arse' at any moment, who would ever expect **you** to do the right thing!"

His silver eyes blazed as he stared at her, his chest moving just as rapidly as hers. His fingers curled in a fist, loosened, and curled again.

Finally he looked thoroughly disgusted, and he gestured to the table without taking his eyes off of her. "She's all yours, Blaise."

With that out-of-place statement, he stalked out of the room.

* * *

I have been so neglectful! I hope the Hermione/Draco interaction made up for it XD They're fiery!

Poor Blaise was probably just goggling at them the whole time! Is anybody up for a Blaise perspective? Some of you love him and others...well! Let me know!

I'll not be so inattentive in the future, I promise. I've been working on original work plot bunnies, but that doesn't mean I won't be here for you guys! You're so awesome :D


	8. Chapter 8

Blaise watched them argue, their flow of furious words flowing from one side to the other, building momentum. Heat fairly sizzled between them, the air thick with electricity.

It may have been anger now, but he idly wondered if it was only his presence that was stopping them from angrily tearing each other's clothes off right then and there.

After Draco stomped out and made that petulant statement - finding one's Mate wasn't exactly a choice - Granger just sat there, furious and startled at the same time.

She did a double-take at seeing him, her mouth downturning in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for yelling like that."

"Draco can bring that out in anyone," he said matter-of-factly. "It's how he copes with his own frustration and feeling out of control. And sometimes when he's in a really good mood."

That got her to crack a smile as she stared at the food, her fork pushing it around the plate. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. It's nothing I haven't heard from other people."

"Fighting against ignorance and hatred isn't easy, or the choice everyone makes. Not in times of war or peace." Blaise didn't think he could have done what she did; go on the lam and throw everything into fighting a mass of wizards and witches who would have been happy to kill her.

He didn't think of all that when he looked at her though. The way Draco talked about her, Blaise suspected the other Slytherin had her on some impossibly high pedestal.

"Thanks, Blaise." She nibbled at the eggs, her eyes sliding to him before dropping.

Granger didn't wear cosmetics or cast glamour charms, and he could see the puffiness under her eyes from exhaustion. Her wrists were slender from where the sleeves slid back, and she ignored the food in favor of coffee.

Blaise would be lying if he didn't find her interesting, but it was more of a whimsical 'how is this put together'. Her personality type was a conundrum to him, and undoubtedly Draco as well.

"He does support your overturning the legislation as much as he can. He's under a lot of pressure from his parents, and about his parents."

Her gaze slid to him again, lingering over the planes of his face for a second before moving back up to his eyes. "He was out of line as well."

"He was, and you should let him know. He doesn't exactly have a good reference for caring about other people's feelings."

She had such expressive brown eyes, and they looked trapped right now. "I don't want to have to correct everyone all the time. Oh they love to say I'm bossy, but I can't help that I'm the one that has to say 'be reasonable' or 'stop and think'. Nobody else will!" She looked at him, her small hands twisting in front of her. "It never ends. "Then they all depend on me to catch their mistakes when I can barely keep up on my own. I'm not perfect, and I can't carry everyone!"

Blaise remained quiet throughout her emotional wringing out until she was finished. "Is this about Draco?" he asked carefully.

Her lips parted a moment in surprise, but the unfocused look in her eyes sharpened again. "No, not really. Not that I appreciate his response, but he's come a long way since school. I think."

Blaise wasn't sure about that, but he was keeping her distracted while his hand casually slid forward in tiny increments. "Is it really important that he agree with your views, or can he just support you as a person?"

"I wouldn't expect anyone to agree with me all the time." Hermione sniffed. "I do feel strongly about subjugating others though. But," she checked his expression again, "I could be content with a supportive of me partner. In business, I mean." She was so busy hastily tacking that on she hadn't realized she placed her hand over his. Now she did.

They both stared as her thumb skimmed over the back of his hand.

She snatched her hand back, mortified color rushing up her cheeks. "I'm-I'm so sorry. I just wasn't thinking, and…"

"It's fine. You just needed comfort."

It was a lame reason and not even remotely true, but she accepted it with a crimson-faced nod, shoving her hands on her knees and keeping them there now.

For Blaise it did answer one thing. It really was only around Draco that she wasn't affected by the Scent. Perhaps in another situation or another lifetime he would press his advantage just because she was Granger, Potter's brainy bosom buddy, but he wouldn't do that to her.

"I think you should talk with him. Be honest. And if he's not honest back, then you can tell him to sod off." Softening the comment with a smile, he nudged her full plate toward her.

Hermione laughed as she shook her head. "I'll think about it." She did, however, take a bite of the overcooked eggs.

He knew she would, she was just slightly embarrassed that he was witness to the shouting argument Draco and she just had.

He wondered if she shared a similar awkward silence with Potter when Weasley had a fit. It was just a guess, but he assumed her relationship with that red-haired idiot was tumultuous. Otherwise, why else would she have been alone yesterday night?

However, he'd be foolish if he discounted her personal loyalties. She was engaged to the freckled idiot.

 _Tap tap tap._

Her head darted up, eyes sliding to the window.

A tiny owl fluttered against the glass, beating against it as if sheer force of will could penetrate the barrier.

She moved with precision and determination, flicking her wand at the glass. The owl slid through too quickly, having to right itself midair to land clumsily on her shoulder.

She smiled at it fondly, reaching up to take the parchment twice its size from its tiny leg.

He watched as she unrolled it, some of the light leaving her bright eyes.

"Is everything fine?" he ventured.

"Fine." she said shortly.

Blaise was not above using his influence. He slid out of his seat and approached her silently, extending one hand to touch her shoulder with two fingers.

Her response was a sigh.

He took the parchment from her fingers and read it.

 _Hermione,_

 _I waited all night at your flat for you. Did everything go well for the meeting? So sorry I missed it, work is busy! I'm know you handled everything perfectly, as always. I miss you._

 _Ron_

The look on her face was startlingly blank.

He folded the letter in his fingers, tucking it away in his robe before lifting a hand. His fingers made a gentle route from her temple to her jaw. "You don't have to carry the weight of everything on your shoulders. Sometimes all you have to be is you."

Her eyes closed, her chest moving in a deep breath. "I wish you were right."

"I am," he murmured against her cheek. "Talk to him, after you've dealt with this. Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered.

* * *

Draco figured that the magical properties of the rug would prevent it from being worn-down, no matter how many times he paced from one end the room to the other.

Idiot. Fool. Wanker.

Though he wasn't given to any sort of self-recriminations, he berated himself for the past...day. Almost every choice he made had led him to this point, filled with restless energy and doubts.

Of course he knew how Granger felt about her 'less fortunates'. Goading her about how and why she supported them was unreasonable, to say the very least.

Who cared why she felt the need to fight so hard? He only needed to know that she did, and leave all the details for someone else to argue with.

He did worry that his parents would starve without a house elf to make their meals, but they were Malfoys. They would survive.

On the other hand, is that how important she was to him now? Did she matter more than his parents?

A deeply ingrained part of himself balked at the thought. Nothing was more important than how they conducted themselves in society. Status was _everything._

But he _burned_ for her.

Didn't that say something about what she was to him? He'd never wanted someone like he wanted her. With all her idealistic foibles and frizzy hair she painstakingly hid in a tight bun.

Even with her eyes on fire and her knuckles white as she gripped the table's edge, telling him his family deserved what they got, she was breathtaking. It bothered him that he couldn't compartmentalize her into some safe box labelled 'Mudblood know-it-all'.

He used to be able to do that, hadn't he? All those times he'd paid her more attention than he had Potter - his mortal enemy and arch nemesis - were they just due to a born-and-bred prejudice?

Did he always know, on some level, she was his Mate?

His fingers fell on the silky coverlet of his bed, pressing indents into the dark green material.

 _Knock knock._

Before he could even began to formulate a response properly denoting 'Go away', his double doors swung open.

"Damnit, Blaise."

The dark-skinned git swept in, looking insultingly svelte as he looked over the room and Draco himself. "Did you know that if you compliment a house elf properly, they'll let you do whatever? I think Granger has a point."

Draco scowled instantly.

Blaise flashed him a bright grin. "You really mucked things up, mate."

"Sod off," he snarled. sitting on his bed and looking toward the window.

He missed the expression in return, but heard the amused chuckle. "You know your Mate will always be there, no matter how much you deny her."

Repeating himself would be redundant, so he didn't bother. Instead he looked crossly at the other Slytherin. "You have no idea what my problems are."

Blaise's somewhat playful demeanor instantly dropped, and he made a gesture as if to say, Continue.

Miffed by the inherent sarcasm in the gesture, Draco started off hot. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've not been treated well outside this house. After this long, people just haven't moved on."

"No offense, mate, but it's pretty hard to have sympathy for you when every bit of progress you could be making, you're not. This whole repealing bad werewolf legislation you're a part of, it's clear you're just doing it because you have to. I'm glad that couple Granger was trying to woo were too drunk to notice your utter lack of charm."

"I could have picked a different agenda to follow." Some of the heat left his voice, but he was only participating and helping because he had to. Forced activities weren't really enjoyable.

"Poor Malfoy, having to work for his reputation. Let me tell you something," Blaise jerked his hand to the window in emphasis, "so you're getting dirty looks from some people. Might I remind you that when the news came out about Professor Lupin, every student in Slytherin who could immediately wrote to their parents to get him sacked."

A bit stung, Draco winced. "Most of Slytherin didn't like him anyway."

"Yes, but he didn't leave because he was disliked by students. He had to leave because owls were coming in about why Dumbledore would let a monster around their ickle babies. Abomination and half-breed were just some of the words used when you all were gloating about who's parent really drove him off."

"I didn't know about...you." It sounded lame, but it was true.

"That doesn't change how people reacted to him, as a werewolf. I'm just saying, Draco, you can have Granger and move on with your life. You've got everything right at your feet now."

"I can't!" he snapped. "I'm supposed to be using the ring to influence people to look on my family name fondly again. Once I claim her, all that goes away. I'll have failed." And that would be a bitter pill to swallow as he watched his mother become more and more manic.

"Oh for…" Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know it's been rough for you. I'm only pointing out this is all new to me. The last girl I kissed, Greengrass's younger sister, I was giving up. I didn't know what to think, getting ill every time I tried to have a snog with a pretty girl. I don't even know, really, if she's my Mate. She could be yours."

"She's not," Blaise said bitterly. "She is most definitely susceptible to my wiles."

Draco tried to ignore the curls of rage sliding from his chest to head, which felt hot and heavy with jealousy. "Oh?" He grit out.

Blaise threw him a look. "I didn't take advantage of her, you pillock. I'm merely saying, she's not mine. If she's yours, embrace it. Some of us would have loved to found her so quickly."

"I can't leave my family's reputation where it is now."

"And did you ever think," Blaise said heavily, "that dating the most influential Muggleborn might go a long way toward easing ill-will toward the Malfoys?"

Draco stopped, a bit stunned. He hadn't thought about that.

"As far not knowing if she is your Mate, clearly you have to kiss her."

That was a bit more positive, hopefully, and Draco noded slowly. "That's true."

"Good luck with that after what you pulled today."

"Thanks," he muttered.

Blaise smirked at him. "Do some honest to Merlin arse-kissing. It will do you a world of good. Oh, and I'd suggest starting with releasing all your house elves."

Draco scowled at him.

* * *

Happy Valentine's Day my lovelies!

Hope you enjoy, and review if you get a chance! Otherwise, don't forget that if you don't get a box of chocolate, you can buy one for yourself! (I just love chocolate and am going to get myself one ;) )

As an aside…

* * *

Does anyone ever wonder how he came up with the name Death Eaters?

Voldy: I don't like the name Knights of Walpurga anymore. She's a right slag.

Lucius: Might I suggest something about Death, my lord?

Voldy: Interesting, interesting… Death Bringers? I like that, but it doesn't quite roll off the tongue.

Bellatrix: What about Death Eaters, my lord?

Voldy: That's stupid. What, are they eating death? Crucio yourself.

Bellatrix: Yes, my lord!

Crabbe, Sr: What about Death Cheaters?!

Voldy: You're an idiot. Crucio him instead, Bellatrix.

Lucius: I rather liked Death Eaters…

Crabbe, Sr: ::screaming::

Voldy: I can't think like this. Everyone, get out.

LATER

Voldy: You are no longer Knights! You are all...Death Eaters!"

Everyone: ::cheers!::

Bellatrix: o.O

Voldy: ::smirks::


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione arrived back at her flat with high hopes of a long, hot bath.

The fates had conspired that it not be so.

"Ron." She stopped halfway through shrugging off her cloak, seeing her fiance sitting in her living room.

He was reading the Daily Prophet, one leg crossed over one knee casually. "Morning, Hermione." He greeted without looking up. "Did you know I missed another Cannons game? I swear Harry does it on purpose."

She rolled her eyes, pulling her cloak off the rest of the way and hanging it up next to the door. "Harry can't control how long your cases are."

This time Ron looked at her, brow lowering in befuddlement. "I was just kidding. I know he can't. Bad morning?"

"No, I just wish you cared about missing our date last night as much as a Quidditch game." She couldn't seem to stop the flow of words coming out her mouth. She wanted to greet him properly after not seeing him for a while.

"It wasn't really a date, was it? I'm sure you handled that charity mogul wonderfully though, you always do."

Even though he sounded genuinely complimentary, it bothered her. She tried another tactic, so this wouldn't turn into an argument. "How did it go, the case?"

"Boring, really. It took some legwork to find out who was behind the smuggling, but everything else went smoothly. Turns out she was just trying to take Chimaera eggs to Berlin."

Hermione disagreed with the 'just', but she was glad they solved the issue. "How's that new Auror working out? Southey?"

"She's fine. Pretty average." He looked back at his paper, twitching it a little.

Hermione stopped, looking harder at him. The tops of his ears were red, but he didn't look angry. Embarrassed then. She sighed. "Posing as a couple?"

The upside of having mixed gender Aurors work together is the very simple and nearly foolproof cover of being a married couple. They could be newly married, photo-taking tourists, bickering diversions, nearly anything and fit right into the background.

Hermione knew that and it didn't bother her; she had spoken with Ginny about it at great length when the redhead was struggling.

Ron, however, became so easily embarrassed and guilty about it. She supposed it was a good thing he had such a keen conscience, but it also meant the guilt had to be eliminated lest it become a wedge between them.

"It's just the easiest choice." He mumbled while staring at his paper.

"I know that. I was best friends with an Auror before you ever became one. And I'm Deputy Head, remember? I was just seeing how she was working out."

Not to mention the witch was hardly Ron's type; plain, frumpy, too busy with her head in the air to keep her outdated wardrobe pressed.

A bit like Hermione herself, she supposed.

"She's fine."

She took a seat next to him, trying to look understanding and not vexed. "Did you have to snog her to blend in?"

The red on his ears grew as he gripped the paper a bit tighter. "For just a moment."

"Well was it good then?"

"No!" He looked at her, aghast.

"Pity, that's always the worst." Now that he got it off his chest, she stood up and walked to the bathroom to wash up, since a bath would have to be delayed.

She could hear him toss down the paper and his footsteps as he followed her. "It was awful, I swear. Her lips were dry and I think she bit me on purpose."

Hermione only smiled as she searched through her drawers for a small blue-corked bottle. "I believe you, I do. Stop stressing."

He sighed. "Aren't you a bit jealous?"

"I certainly don't want to snog her, she sounds awful." She caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and relented. "Ron, I've known you for nine years. Here, we'll pretend you were forthcoming, I was unreasonably jealous, and then we made up." She finally found what she was looking for, and turned around to give him a real snog.

Before she could get close, he took a step back, looking at the bottle in her hand. "Is that my Hangover potion?"

Hermione stopped and held it up, puzzled. "Technically I bought it, but yes. Why?"

"You never drink when we're out."

"I usually have a drink or two."

"Not enough to need one of those."

A bit stung he ignored her advance, she uncorked the bottle and turned back around. "I was very anxious last night. Contrary to popular belief, I don't handle everything with perfect aplomb. I need to expand the organization if it's going to make a difference."

"You came home in good spirits though, everything must have worked out."

Though she certainly did not come home in good spirits, she supposed arguing with Malfoy wasn't nearly as bad as losing this opportunity. The former was just par for the course, really.

"It worked out well enough, I'll have the next meeting with them at the Ministry though."

"No more getting knackered and spending the night elsewhere then? What a shame." Though his tone was teasing, she could read his eyes even in the mirror. He was feeling insecure.

"I couldn't Apparate. I was being safe, and I mostly certainly did not and would not cheat on you." Saying it in explicit terms was the best way to defuse this type of situation as well.

She had learned what she should have all those years ago in school that there was no being subtle with Ron, not if she wanted any discernible results.

"I didn't think that," he protested.

She downed an extra swig, just in case, and felt the immediate lessening of the lingering ache in her head. "Good. Ron, look, as diverting as this is, I just want to relax in a nice hot bath."

He smiled then, looking her over with interest. "Sounds fun. Have any of those other potions handy?"

Despite their time together being sporadic, she was somewhat relieved to shake her head. "I forgot to get a refill on the Contraceptive potions."

He groaned, wrapping both arms around her shoulders from behind. "How could you forget?"

She resisted the urge to shrug him off. "You know, they sell them to wizards as well as witches."

His smothering hug loosened as he straightened. "It's embarrassing going in there."

"Real mature." She turned around and pushed him lightly out the door.

He pouted a bit. "Maybe we could just-"

"I'm taking a bath now. Alone." She shut the door in his face firmly.

* * *

" _I can't set the house elves free. My parents will starve, wasting away in filthy clothes while the peacocks also starve."_

" _Then do more than sullenly support her. I, for one, can't believe you were going to depend on a ring. Are you a Malfoy or not?"_

That was the last time he spoke to Blaise, two days ago. They were exhanging letters though, and since Blaise charmed the witch that Hermione had given the task of community building, he had all the information handy Draco needed.

Since then he girded his loins, nose to the grindstone, all that. First he sent out notes again by owl, but this time he was even more polite.

* * *

Pansy,

Speaking of next-to-impossible positions, I had a visit with Marcus Flint the other day. It was enlightening, reminiscing with him about school days past. I was hoping we could do the same soon.

Draco

* * *

Marcus,

I must have failed to mention that you were my favorite Quidditch Captain. What other captain trained so often with his Beaters from shower until curfew? Congratulations on the recent wedding, I must visit you both soon to express my felicitations.

Draco

* * *

Lucian,

I didn't get a response to my last owl. I hope all is well. My week has taken an upturn, I happened to strike up a lovely acquaintance with your sister, Flint's blushing bride. It's fascinating you and Flint are both still best mates after school ended.

Draco

* * *

Lucina,

I hear congratulations are in order regarding your wedding. I hear it was a small affair, otherwise I would have certainly attended the wedding of my oldest and best mate, who was my Captain for many years in school. I do know Millicent attended, and she had so many details to share I feel like I was there as well.

Draco

* * *

Needless to say, the attempted repeal of the werewolf legislation was featured in Witch Weekly, where Lucina was a part-time consultant.

He had three owners of Quidditch teams contact him for more information, courtesy of the referral of internationally famous - and controversial - Lucian Bole.

The Flint's and Parkinson's sent donations to W.A.G., which is all Draco expected and all they were good for.

Draco had high hopes that their next meeting would go much better than last time. In fact, he was taking every precaution to ensure that it did.

Taking great pains to instruct his house elf to prepare his favorite set of robes and cloak, he checked himself in the mirror again.

He was a good-looking bloke, anyone could see that.

An hour before the next meeting, he head up to her office with ring securely tucked in his pocket. It wasn't for her, of course, but that flinty-eyed desk girl who liked making him wait.

As predicted, she simpered and let him right through.

He _was_ a Malfoy, a very good one at that, but his father had always taught him to use what he could do his advantage. He felt no guilt over leaving that silly receptionist in giggles behind him as he strolled to her office.

 _Knock knock._

"Come in!" she called.

He had to duck after he opened the door as a dozen memos went flying out. Her office was a madhouse, papers flying around to land in - organized? - piles, portraits rotating mid-air, at least three alarms going off. He could make out one chirping 'Prepare for the meeting, No time for eating!'.

"That's a bit horrid, isn't it?"

Hermione looked up in surprise, pausing in the middle of writing on another colored memo. "Malfoy. You're a bit early for the meeting. And in the wrong place."

"I wanted to see if your updates were the same as mine."

Hermione raised her eyebrow andand looked back down at her memo, though she didn't continue to write. "Yes, I received notifications concerning our new sponsors. Thank you. The Auror overseeing your parent's case, as well as the Healer overseeing your mother, have written letters of recommendation that the house arrest be lifted."

Her tone was so efficient and cool that he nearly faltered in his momentum. Luckily he had a wealth of self-confidence to call on. "You're brilliant. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

She looked startled again, as if he broke out into song and the Wizard Wriggle dance right in front of her.

"Just holding up my end. Have you come to tender your resignation to the board?"

"I can't, really." He hedged. She had never given him this much of a cold shoulder, even when he twitted her about her goals in life, hair, friend choices, etc.

"Your probation is over, Malfoy. The two years was up this week, your probation Auror sent over a note."

How had he forgotten that? He blinked twice, looking at the door. He could go. He no longer had to attend any boring meetingsfighting for changes that were bound to fail anyway. That should fail, in all reality.

Except Blaise was his friend, and he probably lived in fear of the news getting out.

Hermione really cared about the downtrodden and the less fortunate, all that.

"You can't get rid of your most productive board member," he drawled.

Hermione looked up from her paperwork, lips parting in surprise.

Draco smiled as he stepped close to her, leaning over her desk until her brown eyes filled his vision.

"You would miss me," he dropped his voice low.

Her pupils were dilated as their eyes locked, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and feel her breath across his skin.

His gaze dropped to her lips, full and begging to be claimed. All he had to do was lean in.

* * *

Aaaand we're all out of time, join us for next week's episode!

XD I'll update soon, I won't leave you hanging! Thank you again for all your nice words and awesome reviews!

To those of you disappointed that Blaise is out of the running (I'm sorry, I adore him too!) a future fic, _Her Hunger_ , will most definitely feature another love interest. Any thoughts on who you'd like to see? Blaise, Theo, Harry, insert suggestion here!

If there's any mistakes, please let me know; my keyboard has been acting naughty lately and I just know I missed things. :(


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione was a scant breath from Malfoy, and she desperately wanted to explore that hot, hungry look in his silver eyes. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers and see how how hot she could burn.

She looked back down at her parchment. "Yes, I suppose I would," she demurred. "I'll see you at the meeting."

She wasn't sure how long he stood there, but she wrote with no recollection of what she was writing. After his footsteps marked his departure, she had to throw away the parchment for just being a string of words.

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

It's not that she didn't love Ron. She did. But in the past few days, something unsettling had occurred to her.

She didn't _want_ him.

When Blaise leaned close to her and murmuring in her ear, that had sent mild shivers through her. Ones that were delightful and left her warm.

The first time Ron and her had slept together, it was shortly after the war. They needed the reaffirmation of being alive, of being intimate with another living breathing person. The multitude of funerals that followed the war had been devastating to attend, but attend they did.

That craving of closeness wasn't the same as feeling desire.

It had been a lack thereof that Hermione thought of being normal, given the fact she knew him since he was eleven. There was no period of discovery, she figured, and thus the temporary feelings of wanting to connect with that person via intercourse had simply passed them by because they already knew each other so well.

It was an uneasy realization that perhaps she simply wasn't attracted to him, and never truly had been.

Passion, she had told herself many times, was fleeting. It was the time after the passion faded that really mattered, she told herself.

But now...even after Malfoy left, she could close her eyes and feel his breath along her skin.

She had felt heavy limbed and relaxed and energized all the same time. It was even more intense and addicting than anything she'd ever felt before.

The meeting was...difficult to get through. One of the most positive they'd had since the Ministry gave them accreditation, and all she could feel was her sweaty palms and try her best to not look at him.

He stood in the back of the room, listening. Watching her. The room was hot. Was it always this hot?

Despite her somewhat light-hearted excuses, once she called the meeting to a close she was aware of exactly where he was.

Why couldn't she feel this way about the person who had accepted her through thick and thin?

"The meeting is adjourned. If you have additional questions, please direct them at my office." She directed a smile toward the departing members, attempting not to keep tabs on the one white blond head in the back.

She failed, miserably so.

Malfoy approached her as the last person trailed out, stepping so close she could smell him and feel his body heat along one arm.

"I was hoping we could finish our conversation from earlier."

The low voice he used was unlike she had any heard from him before today, and heat pooled in her lower abdomen.

He was very close. Her fingers gripped the thin fabric of her robe where his eyes couldn't drop to spy her unease...her tension.

"What did you want to discuss further?" she finally asked.

"Oh...this…" His hand lifted and he touched her jaw. "And that." His fingers trailed down her neck, and his gaze fell to her shoulders as she shivered.

 _Knock knock._

The door opened before she could decide if she wanted to sway closer or further from him. So she nearly jumped out of her skin instead, whirling around to see the polite smile of Lavender Brown.

"I'm sorry, I forgot my folder." She quickly bent to the table and grabbed a blue folder - with doodles in the corner - and left with nary a second glance.

Lavender had come a long way from giggly boy-chasing roommate. Now she handled all of Hermione's day to day based accounts for W.A.G. and correspondence to certain towns or individuals.

They also reached out to relatives and spouses of werewolves, stressing the importance of activism concerning the rights of their loved ones.

Malfoy had come a long way as well, Hermione could remember the first time he attended a meeting, the way his silver eyes had kept straying toward the scars on Lavender's neck and face.

Lavender ran it so well Hermione wondered if the other woman might accept a position overseeing the operations of W.A.G. entirely once it could support itself.

Then it wouldn't be one more thing Hermione ended up in charge of, despite having stretched her time to the limit. Harry kept telling her to learn the importance of delegation, as he was finally learning how to do it himself.

Hermione swept one leg off the chair and ducked under Malfoy's side to walk toward the door. "Send an owl."

She could almost feel Malfoy smirking at her back.

* * *

Draco smirked as she retreated.

Well, Granger certainly wasn't as disinterested as she liked to put on, or as indifferent.

He could nearly feel the heat coming off her skin the longer they were close. It was intoxicating.

Eventually she would accept that their 'discussion' wasn't about words. It was far more deeper than that. He had done more reading on the principles of Mates, and it wasn't anything as simple as fate or destiny. It was about who matched who.

Perhaps he couldn't see it before, but it was making more and more sense to him the longer he looked at her.

She was just as strong as him in her own beliefs. She was willing to fight for them as well, to go where not many had the heart to go.

Draco left the empty room, opting to not follow her but rather toward the offices of his probation Auror. This meant passing by several other Aurors he knew so well.

Craning his neck as he went down a certain hallway, he spied a familiar lunch sack on Potter's desk. He stopped and turned down that direction.

Ignoring the part of his brain that asked why Potter never looked like he combed his hair, he managed an unassuming face as he approached the Auror.

"Malfoy," Potter nodded. "Did you need something? Holcomb should be around here somewhere." That was his probation Auror.

Draco shook his head, skimming his fingers along the desk until they ended right beside the lunch sack. "I was curious about something. Do you ever take Weasley lunch when she's training all day?"

Potter looked as if he were going to say something inane such as that Red was a Potter now, but he seemed to rethink it. "The trainings are closed to the public."

"You're not exactly the public, are you?" he asked idly, making a circuit around the bag with one finger. "Even if they wouldn't let you in, you could drop it off, couldn't you? Sometimes it's the thought that counts."

Potter blinked at him. For a moment he didn't look as if he was sure how to respond. Then he looked away and back with a lighter air. "That's not a bad idea."

Draco nodded and turned on his heel, intending to find Holcomb and see about this probation being over. Normally he was very aware of how much time was left on it, but lately his mind had been quite preoccupied.

Speaking of which, he still had to deal with some very real obstacles.

Granger's distrust of his motives would be the first. The second is her morals about cheating. She wasn't the type to cuckold one wizard for another, even if Draco personally was insulted Weasley could be called such.

Obviously, Draco's superior looks and wealth wouldn't be a factor in Granger's decision.

There had to be a way to make her see that he was a person that she wanted to be closer with.

First thing was first, he Flooed home to give his parents the good news about his probation and their house arrest.

He waited until dinner to announce the news.

His mother gave a bright smile that almost overshadowed the tired shadows beneath her eyes. "What do you mean? Oh Draco, that's so wonderful."

Lucius was more sedate, though he wore his 'I'm pleased with you' faint smiles. "I knew you could accomplish it, son, with all your tools."

Draco picked up his mug, glancing at his father. "You'd be surprised how much of it was accomplished alone." He took a drink, letting that sink in. "Though Granger did help out a lot. She wrote the recommendations."

"Did she?" Narcissa asked, a bit confused. "Isn't she the Head of the Magical Creatures division?"

"Not anymore, now she's Deputy Head of the Magical Law Enforcement department."

"Oh." Narcissa relaxed. "That was upstanding of her. What did you promise her in return?"

Now that was a Slytherin way of thinking.

"To help her raise funds for her little pet project, Werewolf Assistance Group," Draco said dryly, as if he hadn't been a mostly silent board member for a while now.

"Of course." She nodded, intrinsically understanding the give and take between those with money and those that needed it. "She's been very influential lately, I've seen a lot about her in the Prophet."

But not that Granger had a new job title? Draco now wondered what the point of the question was, if not for information.

"Yes, she's definitely got the ear of many people, including the Minister." Draco subtly pressed her a little.

Narcissa moved her food around, but she was eating with more enthusiasm than normal. "I hear she could practically be the next Minister, once she has enough experience and record. I know many thought Potter might be, but he's not as ambitious as her, is he?"

"Not ambitious is hardly Potter's only flaw," Draco drawled.

"The next Minister of Magic, really?" Lucius scoffed. "Surely we haven't sunk so low."

Narcissa shot a look at her husband, lips pursed. "Not another word. There won't be a hint of Pureblood rhetoric in this house again, not when it's cost so much and will continue to cost us."

"Society," Lucius said coolly, "will return to its ways as surely as it did after the first War."

"I'm not talking about society," Narcissa stated, setting down her fork carefully and sitting up straighter. "I am talking about us, and this family. I want to know our grandchildren!"

Did she know something Draco didn't? At this point he knew for sure that he hadn't sired any adorable illegitimate Malfoys.

"Draco will marry properly." Lucius did seem taken aback by his wife's diatribe, but as always he was the consummate voice of logic.

Narcissa gave him a deliberately patronizing look of pity. "Lucius, he's courting a Muggleborn."

Draco nearly dropped his cup, looking at his mother in surprise. How did she know? How does she know everything sometimes?

"Excuse me?" Lucius looked at Draco closely.

She saved him having to respond. "That Zabini boy dropping by for moral support? The owls? For Merlin's sake, Draco was seen in attendance at the Burgundy Hotel with her."

"He could be courting the Zabini boy." Lucius pointed out, somewhat contrarily.

She sniffed, sticking her nose in the air. "I'm tired of missing out on family. I'm tired of losing what's important to me."

Draco was actually quite touched. He knew his mother believed in the same ideals, he'd heard her talk just the same way as his father had about those without an untouched lineage. To think she'd abandon all that just because Draco was pursuing a Muggleborn?

"You know, Mum," he started, an idea blossoming, "once the House Arrest is over, we should have a celebration here, in the Manor. It can also sponsor W.A.G., if you'd like." A moment of inspiration struck him, and he gentled his tone. "We could send a personal invitation to Andromeda."

Narcissa looked at him for such a long time he worried he misread her.

Then her mouth trembled before she managed a smile. "That would be lovely. What a wonderful idea." She reached over to squeeze his hand.

"Don't I get a say in any of this?" Lucius asked narrowly, wearing his visibly irritated expression.

Looking at her husband with surprising compassion, Narcissa said, "Of course you have a choice. But the choice is whether you accept it or not."

"I think I'll have the rest of my dinner in my rooms." Lucius stood up and walked out.

Simple as that.

"He'll come around," Narcissa said, squeezing his hand again. "Now, why don't we start planning for this party? How long do you suppose it will be before the house arrest is officially lifted?"

Draco wondered if he would come around, but his father was also excellent at adjusting. It just hinged on whether he wanted to or not.

He pushed that to the back of his mind and listened to her plan out this extravagant party. While Draco hadn't gone into dinner meaning to use this to further his agenda with Granger, now he had an idea that Narcissa wouldn't mind.

Speaking of which…

"Mum, I think we need to talk about the house elves."

* * *

I am so sorry for the delay on updating! I had(have) a nasty bout of bronchitis, and managed to do nothing except sleep! It really knocked me on my bottom, but I've been feeling better in small degrees so here you go!

If I keep on the mend, you'll be seeing more in a timely fashion!

Thank you all for reviewing and being so encouraging to keep writing, it means so much to me. The support has been super amazing :)


	11. Chapter 11

"How are wedding plans going?" Ron walked into the kitchen, dropping a kiss on her forehead as he started searching through the cupboards.

Hermione had taken up the whole table with parchment and case files. She had to review the last quarter's files as Deputy, and she was not going to wait till the last week like the last Deputy.

"I have to look around at places still. "

"Why don't we just have it at the Burrow?" Ron found a bag of crisps she stocked just for him from the Muggle shop.

Hermione paused mid-quill stroke, watching him for a moment. "I remember last time there was a wedding there. No, thank you."

"What?" He sat down with the crisps, popping a few in his mouth. "The whole 'Ministry has fallen' thing?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she said automatically. "And no. I mean your mum spent the entirety of the summer cleaning and four days cooking."

"She likes doing that sort of stuff." He gave her a puzzled look.

Slowly giving up hope that she would get any work done right now, she set down her quill and looked at him. "We both make good wages. I want to have this somewhere where it's set up for us, there's catering, and everyone has a lovely night."

To his credit, he nodded in agreement without a fuss. "It's your wedding, Hermione. I'm fine with whatever you want."

It was that graceful acquiesce to her wishes that did her in every time. She kept thinking he would argue to argue, as they had done when they were children. "I suppose I can take a look around on my next day off."

"Brilliant. I can't wait until we're married." He swallowed another mouthful of crisps and leaned over to kiss her.

She turned her head slightly, and he ended up lightly pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Undaunted, he stood up. "I've got a Quidditch game with the boy lined up. If I get there early enough, I can guilt Ginny into being on my team." He winked, and smiled at her fondly. "I'll be home in time for dinner."

"Alright." Hermione agreed as he walked out the kitchen and left the empty bag on her paperwork.

And she felt just a little more trapped.

* * *

"That's brilliant, truly." Draco agreed with his mother's decision to expand the portico. The columns would be several yards further out, and she was going to add a stage perpendicular to the house.

She smiled at him brightly. "I love the wizard Selwyn recommended. He has truly amazing ideas. It's really so much better than having to detail out the house elves every single detail of what I want done. The man is inspired."

"How are the two scullery witches working out?" He had been surprised how readily she agreed to hire actual workers.

Oh," Narcissa blushed, "is it awful that I love how they call me Mistress and curtsy? I didn't even demand they do it, but they are so proud to be working for the Malfoy's. Our chef is French, had you noticed?"

Draco nodded. "Our dining certainly has been taken up a notch." Actually, he wondered how Lucius was dealing with it. The house elves had been around so long that they made recipes just the same as when he was a child.

Narcissa was effusive in her praise of these new and exciting recipes he was serving, but Lucius hated anything that wasn't tradition.

Once Madame Malkin suggested he buy robes in the latest fashion, and Lucius spent twenty minutes dressing her down for dabbling in 'disgusting and unnecessary modern modifications to Wizarding culture and the very fabric that holds society together'.

The man had unbreachable principles.

At this point, Draco simply nodded and smiled when Narcissa glossed over how Lucius hadn't attended one meal since that fateful dinner.

"I sent out the invitations this afternoon. I hadn't seen Miss Granger's acceptance yet, perhaps you could speak with her." His mother was also not a subtle woman on top of eternally optimistic about her husband.

"Of course she'll come. It's about her latest pet project." Draco assured her. On one hand, he was truly that confident she would attend. Another tiny, miniscule, hidden part of him worried that she would avoid this the way she had sidestepped him before.

Draco wanted her so bad it ached.

Not just for her loose-robe-disguised body, but to speak with her, to simply be in her proximity. He had dreams about her.

"I do hope so." She sighed. "Do you truly think many will accept our invitation?"

The Malfoys had fallen far, but many would attend simply out of curiosity, he knew. Draco didn't want to tell his mother that. "Of course. A lot of people miss you," he lied. He also hoped it wasn't a lie, but most of her 'friends' were just as invested in society's unwritten rules as she was.

They would not attend out of goodwill.

"I also invited several of your more prominent classmates, the really famous ones," Narcissa mentioned, too offhanded for his liking.

"Oh Merlin," he groaned, "you invited Potter, didn't you?"

Narcissa cleared her throat and smoothed elegant fingers down her robe. "He really fought for House Arrest in our trials. We would have ended up in Azkaban for certain otherwise."

"He's a real hero," Draco said sarcastically.

Narcissa gave him a wounded look. "I don't understand why your father isn't more grateful either. We would be infinitely worse off had the war gone the other way."

Draco supposed. Two years had gone by, and he had to make himself recall the fear and disgust of being treated as not-a-person. That being shunned silently by polite society was somehow better.

"I'm trying, mother."

That seemed to be the magical words, as she walked closer and lightly hugged him. "We all are. That's why I invited him." She pulled back, examining his face with a sad, almost desperate air. "I just want what's best for you. You're my son."

"I know." He never liked when she started to wilt into self-doubt and abasement. She had always been so self-assured before.

"We've done you wrong," she whispered, smoothing down his collar with trembling fingers. "We should have raised you to have more acceptable views. I hate to think you'll struggle now when I could have prevented it."

"Mum," he started defensively, then sighed. "Let's just move forward, shall we?"

Her smile was watery as she met his uncomfortable gaze. "Yes, love. Let's just move forward," she agreed with an avid expression. "You've grown into such a strong young wizard."

Draco wished he could live up to her new and improved standards, but he knew he didn't yet.

* * *

"Hermione, what's WAG?" Harry set the square envelope on top of her paperwork.

Hermione stared at it for a moment, then smiled patiently. "Once again, it's W.A.G. The Werewolf Assistance Group?"

"Ah," he sat down in the chair in front of her desk. "I thought so. I was just a bit confused when I received that."

Hermione picked up the envelope and opened the flap with it's already broken seal. "It's an invitation to an event at the Malfoy Manor," she said in some surprise.

"Yes, and that's the strange part. Other than being invited, of course. You didn't tell me the Malfoys were involved."

"Draco Malfoy has been on the board for a while now. I did tell you that. You said, 'Merlin, who thought that was a good idea?' and I said, 'He actually had a choice which departmental organization he was involved with"."

"Oh, right."

Hermione held out the envelope to him, a nagging thought in the back of her head. "Are you attending?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, pocketing the small invite. "You know I want to support your organizations, but it's hard to imagine this will really be about WAG and not just trying to finagle their way back into society."

"I do need more Pureblooded families to throw their considerable support my way." That was what she told herself. She assumed her invitation was somewhere in the unstable pile of mail she received that morning.

It had nothing to do with seeing Malfoy again and the way she felt when he was close. She pressed her knees together, and told herself it had nothing to do with that at all.

"It did say plus one," Harry mused, completely unaware of the direction her thoughts were taking her. "I'll take Ginny, and if it's unbearable, I promise I'll make up for my early dash to freedom."

She laughed softly, already digging through the pile of mail for the heavy, embossed envelope. Once Harry left, she found the small invite with gorgeous calligraphy on the front.

She didn't tell Harry, but five very tearful House elves had been looking for another house to serve. They had been told to go to the Magical Creatures division, and their new Director was asking her advice, as if she hadn't enough on her plate.

She would help him place them though, especially after learning which Household they came from.

Malfoy had become something of a mystery lately. She ran the thick parchment through her fingers, trying to imagine which dress robe she owned that she might wear to such an event.

Her go-to sets were perfectly serviceable, but some tiny vain part of her didn't want serviceable. It wanted glamourous, breath-taking, It wanted a certain silver-eyed somebody to be so overcome with passion that he couldn't contain himself.

Right Hermione, she thought, doodling an address to a dressmaker Ginny said the Harpies frequented. No robe could do the impossible.

Yet she found herself taking a lunch outside of the office for once, heading down the furthest edges of Diagon Alley to the posh section. It couldn't hurt to just look.

As a funny coincidence, that's how she felt about Malfoy too. It couldn't hurt to just...look.

* * *

Blaise finished up with another parchment, grabbing a fresh sheet. He found writing to be cathartic and he was good at it, if it didn't say so himself.

"Done with another page," he announced, sliding it toward Lavender Brown.

She barely turned her head toward him, her hair nearly covering her face from his angle. "I really appreciate your help, Mr. Zabini. I'd like to convert this to handouts and a package for families with a new werewolf."

"My pleasure. You've already done a lot of work." Even though he had offered at first to get information for Draco, he found himself impressed with the scope of assistance they were offering. "And you can call me Blaise, you know."

Blaise had never had to think much on those who were less fortunate, but she often spoke on the conditions they'd been forced into. Lavender was surprisingly verbose on the subject, and well-read.

She wasn't a werewolf herself, but the scarring along her neck and bisected her bottom lip told of her encounter during war. Blaise didn't know if he could dedicate so much of his time to a species after a vicious attack by one if its members.

"I think I'm finished for the day." She gathered up her papers and gave him a quick smile before turning her head away.

"I'll owl you the rest when I'm finished." He had invited her over to show her the section of his library dealing with werewolves. She'd been over several times since, researching and tossing ideas around with him about the logistics of W.A.G. "It's almost lunch, why don't we go to my favorite pub? My treat."

"No, thank you, Mr. Zabini." She refused without looking at him. "Looking forward to your owl." She walked out of his large library.

He would've walked her out, but she was getting to be less a guest and more of a...friend. Blaise sighed as he begin a new sheet, having had an idea for a very eloquent turn of phrase about how werewolves without support harmed more than just the affected population.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Update update alert! Yay!

Thanks again for your reviews and compliments! I always feel grateful when you take out the time to do so. :D What will happen at the party?! Who will leave the victor of their chosen one's hand?


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you think she'll accept her invitation?"

"Who?" Draco asked, pulled out of his deep thoughts by Blaise's abrupt entrance.

Blaise pulled off his cloak and flung it on the bed, before following suit and staring at the ceiling. "Lavender."

"You told me she's Granger's non-Ministry right hand witch, didn't you?" He watched, perplexed, as the dark skinned wizard slid off the bed and began to pace. "Why are you so nervous?"

Blaise shot him a warning look as he continued walking back and forth across the largest rug in Draco's bedroom.

"Why don't you just ask her? She's your contact, isn't she?"

"She won't even have lunch with me," Blaise mumbled.

"And?" But Draco knew suddenly. He couldn't help but gape at his friend. "Brown, seriously?"

Blaise whirled around, immediately glaring. "She's bloody beautiful, Draco, you shut your gob!"

He held up his hands in the universal 'I'm harmless' gesture. "I'm not saying anything of the sort. I only meant, didn't she used to date Weasley?"

"Granger's dating Weasley!" Blaise pointed out rather crossly.

Draco grunted. He didn't really need the reminder. "So our witches have bad taste. Everyone is terrible compared to us though."

The other wizard seemed mollified by this, and resumed his path from one end of the room to the other.

"Why are you worked up, anyway? She doesn't exactly have blokes beating down her door." At the look Blaise gave him, Draco added, "Look mate, wizards are shallow. Maybe she wasn't hungry when you asked her to lunch."

Blaise thought about this, then shook his head. "No, she's too polite to refuse unless she thought she had to. What can I do? I was thinking about buying her a dress for the event, perhaps a lavender one to remind her who she used to be."

Draco wondered if this is what he had looked like to Blaise. Frantic, spouting nonsense, baffled by the most obvious answer.

"I can't believe this is the same wizard that set me straight." He shook his head in disappointment.

Blaise stopped, looking at first surprised, then irritated again. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not getting in a great big row with her over stupid house elves."

Draco took a seat, casually looking at his nails. "Listen to yourself. Buying her pretty things, wishing she were back to the same silly witch. Why don't you buy her cheap, excessive amounts of cosmetics as well, she used to favor those."

"It's a testament to our friendship that I'm waiting to hex you." Blaise crossed his arms, tapping one polished cap toe oxford.

Draco would admit he had a flair for the dramatic, so he drew out the silence until Blaise looked as if he were about to hex him anyway. "She's a changed witch, literally carrying scars from the war. She doesn't need grand gestures, she needs patience. She doesn't need you to wax on how she's beautiful, she needs to believe it herself before she'll ever hear you."

Blaise stared at him, previous threats hopefully forgotten. He didn't even speak at first. When he did, it was in a much subdued voice. "What should I do?"

Draco almost sighed in satisfaction. There was nothing better than being asked just those words. "Tone it down, Blaise. You've never been turned down before." Bloody lucky werewolf. Draco was stuck being physically repulsed by the most basic of foreplay, while the other wizard spent his formative years rutting with every pretty Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

Draco continued. "Let her know you're interested, but for Salazar's sake, don't resent her if she's not ready."

"I didn't mean I wanted teenage Lavender. I like this Lavender a lot more. I don't see the scars, I wish she didn't either."

"Some marks from the war are all you can see when you look in the mirror." Draco couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice as he subconsciously rubbed the inside of his forearm.

Poor wizard looked almost forlorn. "I think she's my Mate, Draco."

This is why Draco had always been closer with Crabbe and Goyle, they never had to have any heart to heart conversations. On the other hand, they would have stupidly nodded and grunted while Draco made a complete arse of himself with Granger, so.

He rang for tea, standing up again and looking out at the wondrous view of the Manor grounds. "I've given this a lot of thought. The problem with finding your Mate is that maybe you're not ready at first. Maybe she won't be ready when you are. We live a long time. Nobody said it would happen right off."

Blaise was quiet for a while. It was a sobering fact, that they might just keep on living without the person they wanted so bad.

Draco half-spoke to himself. "That is the price we pay for knowing who's perfect for us."

Blaise joined him, looking out the window. "That's massively depressing, Draco."

"I know. The truth often is, isn't it?"

The truth was that Draco had a very real and looming deadline to win his Chosen Mate over. That _was_ troubling him.

"Everyone gets cold feet, dear," Molly Weasley said practically as she set out a row of freshly baked buns to cool in the window.

The other children - young adults now, actually - were off playing their Quidditch game. Ron had convinced Ginny to play for his side, and George graciously sided with Harry. Luna was watching them, and Seamus and Neville rounded out the game.

It was actually wonderful to see them acting so carefree together, heading out into the beautiful weekend day with brooms in their hand and playful jibes on their tongue.

Hermione stayed behind, and nobody expected her to do anything less. It was the perfect opportunity to ask Molly for some advice. The woman had been married for decades, mothered seven children, and buried one.

"Did you?" Hermione asked, nibbling on the plate of almond biscuits that had been set in front of her.

"Of course!" Molly smiled at her. "I was young once too. I know it may be hard to believe, but I was as athletic as Ginny was. I always did well in school, and was quite popular. We were in the middle of a war, and I worried that I was rushing into marriage with Arthur. He was my school sweetheart, like Ron and you."

They weren't quite dating in school, but Hermione nodded, fascinated by this new picture of plump and motherly Molly Weasley.

"It was a difficult time. My brothers were always risking their lives. Why, I even slapped Lucius Malfoy for pulling me aside and suggesting I wise up and dissociate myself from my blood traitor family and boyfriend."

"What?" Hermione gasped and laughed, imagining Lucius's aristocratic shock replete with a red hand mark on one cheek.

"My point is, I had plenty of doubts about our future, but anything can be overcome with love. Now," she passed a full tray of tall pumpkin juice along the table, "take these out to the others and give the wizard you love a good snog."

Hermione nodded slowly as she took out her wand and made the tray float by her side. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"Call me Mum, please." Molly offered again, fondly.

Hermione left with a smile and decided that she would accept the invitation with Ron as her plus one.

Anything can be overcome with love, she liked that.

The designer wizard had truly outdone himself, the Manor never looked better.

Tiny pinpoints of light dotted the walkways leading up to the front doors and around the paths in the garden.

A pretty witch answered the door for each guest, taking their invitation and announcing them with a spell far more subtle than _Sonorus_. It could be heard in every room, but the volume was pleasant.

Every inch of the foyer has been polished, and a new silver statue of a slim witch stood by waiting to receive cloaks. Once in her hands it would disappear, and only reappear for the owner of said item.

The formal drawing room was within sight for those interested in playing cards and enjoying frostgin and firewhiskey. The oak paneling complimented the burgundy and forest-green touches, tall inlaid bookshelves giving the room a surprisingly accessible appeal.

Thick bronze doors led into the Grand Ballroom, which had been redone with Italian marble flooring, and a private elevator in the corner went up to a rooftop terrace. Draco had specifically suggested fritillaries, tulips and camassia, to cover all his bases depending on what color Hermione wore tonight.

The portico had been expanded to wrap around the northeast corner of the house, and did indeed boast a stage. It was unbelievably picturesque at night, between the German-silver floor hammered by hand over wood, the slim pillars, and brocade silk ceiling that was enchanted to look like the starriest night ever seen while standing under it.

It felt like a new house. Narcissa had the library renovated in a similar style to the formal drawing room. Neither of them said it, but all the familiar furnishings, save for the books, were now gone, leaving the library unrecognizable for a reason.

Many guests had arrived by the time it was just growing dark, the curious and those who pretended the last two years simply hadn't happened.

Blaise had briefed him enough on the inner workings of Granger's werewolf organization that he could pay lip service when they enquired about it.

Not that half of them cared, but he stressed the building _shelter_ for those afflicted, instead of leaving them to, ahem, roam the countryside.

A good Slytherin twisted facts enough to create appeal for their listener, rather than make the listener change their views.

Other names were announced, names that weren't hers. He made his rounds, being charming and droll in turns when the questions became pedantic.

Witches and wizards would arrive all night, depending on how much of an appearance they wanted to make. Draco had assumed Granger would arrive promptly, but it turned out he was wrong.

"Draco Malfoy, what a sight you've become."

Draco turned around, raising his eyebrows at Mrs. Zabini.

Much like her son she had sharply good-looking features, and her silver robe shimmered in the light against her dark skin.

"Thank you, Mrs. Zabini. Are you here to support a community in need?" he asked neutrally, knowing that the Zabini's were not registered as werewolves.

He couldn't even indicate it in tone, too many close observers milling about looking for gossip.

She smiled, plucking a flute of elf-made wine from a passing tray. "I always support the less fortunate. Blaise has meeting with the Brown heiress often for the same reason."

"Ahh." He wasn't sure how to take the melodious drawl to her voice. The Brown's were not considered blood traitors, despite their daughter's obvious choices in war.

Lavender would actually be a decent catch for a Pureblood wizard.

"It's so refreshing to see a young man have philanthropic interests."

Draco nodded, attempting to listen to the next announcement, but he missed the last several names. However, this had to be a difficult party for Mrs. Zabini, hearing the insensitive murmurs about an affliction she shared.

He was well aware that even the families that offered monetary support to W.A.G. did not do so because it seemed important. At an event like this, one donated to remind others they they were important.

"Mrs. Zabini, have you seen your son?" He figured Blaise was around the entrance, drinking and hovering in hopes of accidentally bumping into Lavender.

"Mm, yes. That's why I came to find you, he's holed himself up in the library. I couldn't convince him to come out. I hope you have better luck." She smiled cloyingly sweet at him and drifted back into the crowd.

Draco cursed under his breath.

He cursed again as he wound his way through the growing crowd. Did Blaise give up on her appearing, or did he overhear an especially cruel comment about werewolves?

Draco was just discovering that Blaise had feelings, so he thought on how to approach this.

He didn't see anybody in the library right off, but it was quite massive. He walked further in to check the brown leather sofas or the window alcoves.

There was a soft thud as the doors closed. Draco leaned out of the alcove, noticing the double doors were closed. He had left them ajar.

Before Draco could step away, he had a sweetly smiling, black-haired witch right in front of him.

"Mrs. Zabini." It was just her, thank Salazar. "I haven't seen Blaise. Perhaps he rejoined the party."

"Maybe. Maybe he was just looking for you and I forgot." She sighed, raising her sultry dark eyes to him. "You're wonderfully unaffected by me. I like that in a young man."

Draco's first thought was that she was being a bit egotistical. Not a surprise, but still.

Then he remembered.

Blaise went on and on about Scent. Ergo, Mrs. Zabini thought he wasn't affected by her because...

He wasn't affected by her, but it didn't mean what she might be hoping.

"Mrs. Zabini, I've merely been holding it in. Tightly." He smiled at her, a hint of her saccharine sweet in his twist of lips.

"Why don't we find out?" She displayed her white teeth in a predatory smile, hands smoothing over his robe's lapels. "Either way, we both win."

He couldn't actually go back any further, lest he topple into the alcove. And he had a bad feeling about letting that happen.

While he was formulating a firm way to put his friend's mum off, he completely missed the click and swish of the doors opening. He really only had one thought on his mind.

What was keeping his witch?

Author's Notes:

I think Hermione is a wonderfully strong and smart witch. But anyone can be uncertain and settle.

We so often see Draco being the one saved, but sometimes, sometimes I think it's Hermione who needs the saving.

That was poignant! XD Looks like Draco needs some saving at the moment! Enjoy the cliffhanger lovelies, and thank you so much for all your reviews! I am feeling much better for those that wished me well, and for the ones eager for an update, ta-da!


	13. Chapter Unlucky 13

Hermione stared at the mirror.

Ginny had smoothed down her curls in a semblance of sleek waves, much quicker and simpler than that fateful Sleakeazy night. Still, she didn't feel herself and it had nothing to do with her hair.

Her robes were dark blue, the sleeves cut high to reveal the gentle cream sleeves that flowed to her wrists. The skirt flared out, touch of pale stitches winding up the side in delicate rosettes.

She had agreed to attend with her recently married friends. Watching the way they touched each other, small casual brushes of the hand or the loving way he played with a lock of red hair, was bittersweet.

Hermione knew not to compare relationships, but she couldn't help but pang of envy. Ron did similar things, he grabbed her hand and complimented. So what was wrong with her?

The war had truly cemented home that she should appreciate what she had, because it may not be there the next day. She couldn't bear to lose her best friend, not after she made such a commitment.

"Hermione?" Ginny called from outside the door.

Hermione slipped into matching flats and watched her reflection smile brightly. "I'll be right out." Slipping her wand into the folds of her sleeves, she went to the door and opened it.

Ginny had her silky, manageable hair in a sleek bun, several tendrils curling just over the gathered hair. Her robes were a jewelled crimson, the brilliance contrasted by the simple cut.

"You look beautiful," Hermione said warmly.

"You always do." Ginny reached out to smooth a curl back in place, and they walked downstairs.

Harry simply glowed with pride at his beautiful wife, leaning over to kiss his cheek once she was within range. "Are you both ready, gorgeous?"

She smiled and leaned her cheek into his face, eyes closing.

Ron watched them for a moment with a good-natured exasperation, then turned his attention back on Hermione. His fingers wound down the cream sleeves to wind in her fingers. "You look very fetching."

He cleared his throat a bit. "Your robes are very pretty as well. I like your hair down."

It was strange, how at one time when he began to understand that he should tell her sweet things, it had pleased her greatly. Now she would have been more pleased had she not simply wanted the compliments without the obligations.

It was terrible that she thought of him and his love with anything but gratitude. She wound her fingers in his tightly, reminding herself how they got along quite well. He wouldn't be bad to live with or marry.

Harry had long since found out the organization that rented cars to the Ministry and hired them for special events. Tonight was no different, and they climbed in a sleek black car with an enlarged backseat.

They piled in comfortable, sliding on the smooth leather seats into place. Harry sat closest to the in the backseat and Ginny next to him, so Ron and she moved to the sideways seat.

The boys chatted about the rising popularity of cars and Harry's recent training in operating a vehicle. It sounded hilarious, when he described accidentally leaving it in reverse and backing right into the Minister's favorite car.

"I was doing so well," he lamented, "only had five minutes left on the clock. It's the one time I regretted being Head Auror, I had to tell Shacklebolt that I smashed the front of his Cadillac Limousine. I tried to fix it…"

"Oh no, you did _Reparo_ on a vehicle?" Hermione laughed.

Harry ducked his head in shame, but he was still grinning. "It was really awful at the time. The look on his face…"

She couldn't help but crack up, just imagining the reaction. Shacklebolt was such a steady, calm man most of the time.

"How did I not hear about this?"

Harry innocently whistled.

Hermione shook her head. He was just as bad at hiding wrongdoings, even accidental ones, as he ever was.

"We're here." Ginny announced, looking out the window. "Oh, look at those lights along the path! Aren't they lovely?"

Hermione leaned over to get a better view out of the window. It was dark out, but the house look elegant and almost ethereal.

Though she was distracted with...other concerns lately, it hadn't completely fled her mind that she had been here once.

Even though it was years, she hadn't ever forgotten. As proud as she was that her mind and body survived Bellatrix repeatedly casting _Crucio_ on her, Hermione felt a rise in anxiety.

Being greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy was also daunting, but she merely took a deep breath and took Ron's hand as she stepped out of the car.

As they neared the entrance, a poretty young witch opened the door and requested their invitation cards politely.

Her smile certainly brightened as she moved to announce Harry and Ginny Potter, she asked Harry to sign the invitation card and forgot to turn off the spell on her voice.

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, but Harry still signed the card for her.

She clutched it with a happy and child-like adoration and forgot to introduce Hermione.

Honestly, Hermione didn't mind. She was well-used to her own adulation and fame, but this wasn't exactly the place that a Muggleborn Ministry Official worked in her favor, she thought.

However, she was surprised that most of the guests who greeted or introduced themselves were polite in manners.

Though she enjoyed the beauty and grace of the house, a small part of her mind kept turning toward the place she had once learned firsthand about an Unforgivable.

"Miss Granger."

Narcissa stood alone in a small clearing of other people chatting. She looked thin, but there was a content warmth in her face Hermione hadn't ever seen before.

The alternatively vengeful and haughty woman they argued with in Madame Malkin's was gone.

Hermione thought, perhaps, she wouldn't be able to forgive the woman who told Harry he would join Sirius when it was so fresh to her best friend.

Lying for Harry during the war though and saving his life, as Harry told the story, went a long way in letting go of old angers and fears.

"Mrs. Malfoy, so nice to see you." That hung in the air awkwardly for a moment.

"I was just speaking with Sophie Stanislavski. Did you know my husband's grandmother is related with her grandmere?"

Hermione kept the uncertain smile pasted on, nodding. "No, I didn't. Dr-Malfoy hadn't mentioned it."

"He never did study the family tree as well as he should." Narcissa laughed, a light sound. "I have found that it is a wonderful ice-breaker."

Hermione wasn't sure where this was leading to. Good news, or would the older woman pull a very Slytherin coup?

Narcissa filled the silence smoothly. "I told her how wonderful your efforts are, and I introduced her to Andromeda and told her about my great-nephew. I set up a luncheon with Sophie and my family, and would like to extend the invitation to you as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione was touched. She also couldn't help but notice the sheen of joy when Narcissa mentioned Andromeda. She didn't know they had reconciled, but she was happy for them. Andromeda had lost a lot in the war.

"You seem discomfited, dear. Is it me?" Narcissa asked gently as she stepped closer.

"Oh no, not at all." Anymore. "I haven't been here since…" Hermione felt as if she should be honest after the other witch had been so open with her.

Narcissa nodded in quick understanding. "I have been renovating many parts of the house. May I show you the library? It is my experience that one must confront their fears head-on."

Hermione drew in a deep breath and nodded.

"You can call me Narcissa, dear."

* * *

"Do you like this song?" Blaise asked Lavender, handing her the lemonade he had offered to fetch her.

"I don't think I've heard them before."

The band playing on the portico was , heavy on the instrumentals but the singer had a strong voice that carried beautifully into the night air.

"I prefer the Weird Sisters and the Wicked Witches myself, but this would be nice to dance to," Blaise kept the suggestion out of his tone as much as he could.

Lavender only nodded, letting her hair dip over one shoulder to cover the scars on her neck. He recognized that now, and he followed up tenderly.

"Shall we?" He held out his hand to her, and she slipped her hand into his.

Feeling extremely hopeful, he led her to the area in front of the stage where other couples twirled around sedately.

He placed his hand on her waist and hoped she couldn't hide her face the entire time.

"Lavender, does it bother you I'm a werewolf?" He had to ask. She had been savaged by that terrible excuse for a creature after all.

Her head lifted to look at him, her eyes wide. "No, of course not. I don't hate them...I don't even hate him." Her chin dipped low, as if she was remembering she was exposing her full face to him. "I want to help all of the victims that suffered. There are good people out there, no matter their species."

"Oh. Do you think I'm just a victim?" He wished he hadn't told her his story now, about how his mother had confronted his real father before Blaise began Hogwarts. She was desperate to stop him from attacking yet another one of her husband's.

Apparently his father had other plans, he managed to get her off the grounds and kept her until the next full moon. He had bit her again and again, left her for dead and went on the prowl for the son he'd been kept from.

Blaise still remembered that night, wondering where his mum was the last few days but not too concerned. After all, he had house elves to keep him fed and the house running smoothly. He thought maybe she met a new wizard.

"Of course not." Lavender looked upset now. "You're so strong. I think you're...strong." She finished lamely.

Blaise brushed his fingers against her cheek before he could stop himself, and then dropped his hand abruptly with an apology on his lips.

But for a second, just a second, her eyelids fluttered close.

He hoped she didn't think he was the same sort of violent monster Greyback was. He had also told her how that night ended.

"Lavender, I-" His head turned at a flicker of bright red out the corner of his eye. He turned his head, noting the eye-catching yet simple dress robe. He noticed the hair second.

He tilted his head as Ginny Weasley cum Potter was hurrying after someone. He almost ignored it, but it nagged at him. "Lavender, can I excuse myself just a moment?"

"Oh, yes." She was still rather pink-cheeked, both anxious and looking exceedingly pretty.

"I promise I'll be back." He squeezed her hand and walked quickly to follow the crimson. She was following Hermione who was also quickly making her way through the crowd, and he had a bad feeling about that.

He nearly stopped in his tracks when he passed right behind by two familiar heads. Messy black hair and red hair - Potter and Weasley.

Silently, Blaise took a step back and closer to them, out of sight.

"I think it's the wedding plans driving her round the bed, Harry. I offered some suggestions, but she hates them all."

"Maybe she doesn't want a big wedding. You know she doesn't like all that attention on her personal life, look how the Prophet hounds her whenever it's a slow week."

"Skeeter imitators." Weasley grumbled. Then he said something so quiet Blaise had to get closer. "-think it's a good idea? I've heard of Gretna Green. Nobody will know until it's done...except you two."

"Well, I don't think-" Potter started.

"Please. If she says yes, come with us. It won't be the same without you, mate."

Blaise missed Potter's response as someone jostled him and loudly apologized, then he lost the thread of conversation as he had to move.

But he was definitely going to have to look for Draco first.

* * *

Hermione followed behind Narcissa as she opened the double doors to the library. The blonde witch went very still. She moved forward quickly to close the doors again, but she had to do so one at a time.

Puzzled, Hermione tilted her head to take a look at what Narcissa saw.

A tall woman in a silver robe seemed to be leaning into someone.

Someone with pale blond hair and fingers curled over the witch's bare shoulders, and they were very...close.

Hermione blinked as Narcissa brought both doors togethers in a silent click. She just stared at the door for a moment.

"Why don't we take a look at another time?" Narcissa suggested, raising her hand to someone a serving witch with a tray of drinks.

"I noticed you were using servers." Hermione spoke the words, but they were just words. All the feeling in her seemed to have spontaneously evaporated.

"Oh, Draco spoke at great lengths about House Elf rights. He was very persuasive...you know, a lot of my friends have admired the servers and the food, and I've told them how much better life is with hired help."

Hermione only nodded. "That's wonderful. Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You can call me Narcissa." She trailed off at the look on Hermione's face. "Are you sure, you don't look so well."

Hermione must have said something reassuring, but she found herself just walking through the crowd. She would have felt stupid, had she not still been shocked. Did she really think she was special to him?

She was special to Ron. He wanted to live with her, marry her, build a life.

Malfoy went around in secluded areas with other witches.

She barely noticed she passed by Ginny. "Hermione? I-Hermione?"

Hermione kept walking. She barely noticed when the other witch followed her, asking questions and losing her sometimes in the thick crowd.

The last thing she heard was Ginny saying she would be right back.

Hermione ended up on the front steps, wondering if she had to head back in to ask Harry how to summon the car. It could return for the rest. She just wanted to be alone. No, she was tired of being alone. Looking for something that was better than what she had now.

Had she really been secretly pinning her hopes on Malfoy? Or had she simply been attracted to him and thought that was more important than a two-year long relationship? It was all jumbled in her head, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Hermione?"

She looked up behind her quickly, but it was just Ron.

She looked back at her knees, and closed her eyes at the Warming charm he must've cast.

Ron sat next to her, his dress robes were dark blue and much nicer than the ones at the Yule Ball. It even was a similar shade as her dress, but darker.

"I knew this would be hard for you." Ron reached out to hold her hand. "I keep checking around corners in case I see those stairs again."

She remembered Harry and him were kept in the Malfoy dungeon. Who had a dungeon? She squeezed his fingers. "I'm sorry."

"No, that's why I wanted to come with you. Maybe I'd make up for not protecting you the first time."

Hermione groped blindly out for his sleeve, pressing her face against his shoulder as two tears slipped down. Had she really been willing to throw away all this history?

Ron tilted her head up, swiping his thumb against her cheek. "Marry me."

Hermione felt a momentary sweep of confusion. "That's...sweet, but I already am." She managed a smile.

"No," he kissed her lightly at the corner of her mouth. "Marry me tonight. We're all dressed up too. I mean I'd marry you in a jumper and jeans, but…"

"Yes." Hermione whispered, looking up and meeting his blue eyes desperately. "Yes, yes."

Ron looked at her, as if stunned for a moment. Then a huge smile broke out on his face, and he pulled out his wand and told his Patronus, "Time to leave," and sent it off.

He held her hand as they waited.

* * *

"No, I haven't seen Granger." Draco said crossly as Blaise snagged his sleeve and asked if he had in a hiss. "I'm looking now."

Blaise pulled on his sleeve harder, trailing after him.

"What?" Draco stopped and turned, readying himself to tell Blaise to wait on his Lavender-forlorn venting.

"I saw Granger."

"Why didn't you say so? Where is she?" He didn't mean to sound so impatient, but the party was full-swing by now. She should have been here by now.

"I lost her." At Draco's disgusted expression, Blaise spoke louder. "She's upset. I saw Weaslette chasing her."

The other wizard frowned, some of his impatience leaking away. "I'll check the loo. When she was emotional, she went there a lot."

 _Oh Draco, how long had you truly been drawn to her?_ He shook off the thought.

"Wait." Blaise dropped his sleeve. "I overheard Potter and Weasley talking about leaving with Hermione somewhere. He didn't say when, or where…"

Draco was beginning to feel impatient again.

Blaise snapped. "No, he did say where, but I've never heard. Gretna Green?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, some place poor people go?"

"Close." A quiet voice said from behind.

Draco turned, seeing Lavender. She wasn't hiding her face, but rather staring at both of them intently.

"Gretna Green is a place where Muggles have eloped for centuries. They hold ceremonies at any hour you want."

Draco blew out a sigh in relief. "Muggle ceremonies don't have Binding spells though." On account of them having no magic and all.

Lavender looked at him, a fleeting look of pity crossing her features. "No, but there are wizarding solemnisers as well."

Draco felt as if everyone had taken a step back from him, and he still couldn't get enough air. "Weasley can ask whatever he wants. It doesn't mean she'll say yes." But where was she? If Blaise saw them here, they had to still be here.

"Find Granger," he said sharply to Blaise and Lavender. He half-expected her to get upset by this, but she simply nodded with bright eyes and disappeared back into the crowd.

Blaise lingered. "We'll find her." He turned to head toward the bathrooms and side rooms.

Draco wasn't sure where to start, honestly. His heart was pumping quickly, his skin tingling with a sudden chill. Weasley was most likely talking about another night.

Granger wouldn't just leave a fundraiser for her project. She wasn't the type, not without a really good reason.

"Draco!"

He turned quickly, disappointed it was just his mum. She made her way over quickly, her pleasant facade dropping once they were close enough. She looked furious.

"Mrs. Zabini, really? Have you lost your mind?"

Draco tried to quell the color from rising in his cheeks. "I was fending her off," he murmured, defensively. "She tried to snog me, I moved her back. How do you know?"

Narcissa shot him a still suspicious look. "I walked in the library with Miss Granger right behind me _before_ you pushed her away. She was clearly upset afterward."

Draco knew then. The perceived disloyalty Hermione felt would slice through the longing and pull that had been building between them, leaving her adrift.

She would be lost without him. Draco ran outside as fast as he could without knocking people over.

* * *

If you want to call me evil you can, shake your fist, then leave a review once calmed down. ;D

And thank you again for all the wonderful reviews you've taken out the time to send. Everything is happening and where will it all go?! Answers on next update, maybe! ::twiddling fingers::

For those that asked, I am just in the editing stage before publishing my book. Thanks for your support!


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione stared out the window as the night passed by. She hadn't expected Harry and Ginny to accompany them, but she couldn't protest.

Ginny had looked shocked, then hugged her. However, once they were in the dark confines of the enlarged backseat, Ginny reached over to squeeze her fingers. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

Hermione hadn't responded, realizing how cold her fingers felt against the other witch's warm skin. Perhaps it was from waiting outside.

Her mind kept trying to break through the ennui that had settled over her like a layer of frost. But she simply kept going back to that she had been stupid, mooning over someone who had simply replaced her with another.

It pushed her toward that deep devastation she had felt when Ron was snogging Lavender madly after they had tentatively agreed to go to the Slug Club party together. Neither of whom she held a grudge toward, it had been years. But at the time...at the time...

It hit that sensitive spot that kept reminding her of her friendless childhood. It reminded her of cool whispers in her sleep when she wore that damned necklace, asking her if she truly had any value to anyone as a person.

Not as a brain, or a convenient female, but who she was, honest-to-Merlin, all the time.

"I'm sure," she whispered back to Ginny, minutes after the initial question.

She ignored the troubled look her redheaded friend sent her.

"I have to go." Draco said desperately, shoulders slumped as he looked at Blaise.

Blaise cleared his throat as he looked around, steering Draco toward a less occupied corner. "Are you mad? This party is for your foundation. Hermione has a speech to make, she couldn't have left-"

"She saw me kissing your mum." Draco snapped, looking away with his jaw tight.

Blaise goggled at him. It took him moments to find any modicum of speech. "Wh-what?"

"She thought...oh, I don't have time for this. You know what happens if Granger becomes a Weasley, you _told_ me what happens. I have to go." He pushed past Blaise to be reabsorbed into the milling crowd of Purebloods pretending not to pay attention.

"Draco!" Blaise hissed, but it was too late. He wanted to throw up his hands. What were they supposed to do without the main speaker **and** the resident who was a board member?

Lavender waited by the table with refreshments, smiling for appearances as he neared. She searched his face. "Did he leave?"

"Yes." Blaise sighed. He had become really attached to W.A.G. He wanted it to succeed.

He didn't want anyone to end up like him, isolated in school and searching for answers in books and the disdainful black eyes of their Professor. Technically, he had been lucky to even attend Hogwarts.

"I have Hermione's speech." Lavender whispered. "I brought one for Malfoy just in case he was willing to say a few words."

She slipped a small hand in her robes, and produced a neatly folded up parchment to hold out to him.

Blaise licked his lips, taking it from her. He was too involved - what if they suspected he was a werewolf?

He shook his head.

That was ridiculous. He was just one of the sponsors.

"Same old Draco," he said bitterly. "Leaving everyone to cover for him."

Sixth year had been miserable when Professor Snape entered the Slytherin rooms, inquiring about Draco's whereabouts.

Not that Blaise had known, but he still covered for the blighter when Crabbe and Goyle were also gone. Usually he fell back on 'Draco was ill'. If Snape demanded to know what he was sick from, Blaise always answered, 'Swollen head, sir'.

He suspected Snape didn't dock points because he found it humorous, even though he scowled at everybody before swooping out.

Lavender searched his face. "We've got this handled, Blaise."

The shock of hearing her say his name erased all other considerations from his mind. He couldn't help but smile at her.

"We do, Lavender."

* * *

Draco had to get to the Ministry. He had no idea what the address for this Gretna Green was, but they would. He hated the toilet entrance, it was disgusting and lowbrow. He did it anyway.

When that cool voice asked his reason for visiting, he immediately said, "Rescue mission."

To him, it was. It hadn't escaped his notice that Granger was sensitive. The Slytherin room was abuzz when she was going to attend Slughorn's Christmas party with McLaggen, an idiot if he ever saw one.

Everybody knew McLaggen wanted Weasley's spot on the Quidditch team, they taunted him in the hallways constantly about King Weasley and his jester, McLaggen.

For Granger to turn around and accept McLaggen's offer told Draco two very important facts; first, Weasley's face-sucking with Brown deeply hurt her, and second, she waited for the wizard to make the first move.

She was a witch that needed someone to be as decisive and determined about her as she was about...everything else.

Not that Draco had rejected Granger, in all reality he wanted her desperately. Now he wished he had told her even just once, he had plenty of opportunities.

Long smoldering looks in the hallways, focusing on just her during meetings. He had all these opportunities to tell her how he felt, and he hadn't done it once.

"Where is your destination?" The Floo attendant asked him boredly.

"Gretna Green."

She looked at him, looked at the empty space around him, and raised an eyebrow.

What, did everyone know Gretna Green was for couples eloping? How had he never heard of this bloody place?

"When's the next Floo?"

She looked at her schedule boredly. "Four hours."

Draco resisted the urge to shake her. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't her fault. "Is there any way to get there earlier?"

She stuck the parchment down before he could peek at the address. "Nope."

Draco looked around, and stepped closer to her. "She's marrying the wrong bloke. I have to profess my undying love for her. Please."

Her head rotated toward him, her eyes lighting up. She picked up her schedule again. "Well…"

"She's the love of my life," Draco said dramatically, accepting the fact he would fuel Female Attendant's romantic fantasies for the next month.

"I can authorize an Emergency Portkey. It costs extra."

Draco searched his pockets, hoping he had thrown in a bag of galleons. He hadn't expected to be rushing out of the party like a madman. He found a pouch he had forgotten about in a hidden pocket.

"Four...five...six galleons...thirteen sickles, is that enough?" He felt like a beggar, holding out the paltry amount.

She looked at him, the coins in his hands, then sighed. "I'll only charge for the regular Portkey to Scotland. You won't tell, will you?"

"Merlin, no." He dumped the coins in her hand, even though it was extra, and took the slip and made his way to the line of people waiting.

It seemed to take forever before he handed over his slip and received his Portkey. It resembled a badge, with a large 'M' imprinted on the front.

3…

2…

1…

A jerk in his navel sucked him into blackness that squeezed him into nothing.

He reappeared in seconds that felt like hours, trying to shake off the disorientation.

People were milling by, in strange Muggle coats and hats. He looked for a sign, trying to place his location. The second attendant had told him, but he hadn't listened at all.

 _Gretna Green Train Station_.

Draco nearly groaned. He had no idea where he was supposed to go, surrounded by Muggles, and hoping against hope that she wasn't already bonded to a different Wizard.

As he wandered around the cozy shelter, he noticed a bunch of colored papers folded in similar shapes.

He scanned over the titles, like _Events in Gretna Green_ and _Where to Honeymoon_. He finally spotted one that seemed good, _Popular Nuptial Spots_ _._

Draco took that one and spread out the folded sections. There were so many places to get married here. What was he doing anyway, these were clearly for Muggles.

But one listing caught his eye.

 **An Everlasting Bond**

Draco stared at the tiny map and stuffed the pamphlet in a pocket as he left the station and began down the road to the right.

Disillusioning himself, he began to Apparate down the road, as far as he could see each time. Even though he kept consulting the map, he nearly missed the tiny, half-hidden sign.

No light came through the windows and he couldn't peek through them, he couldn't tell if it was open. It did look rather plain.

Draco walked down the long path, the closer he was the more he could see the real building.

It turned out to be a trim white building with large picture windows, he could see cloisters of beautiful floral arrangements inside. He really hoped this was the only wizarding location, because he sat down by the entrance and waited.

* * *

Narcissa did not seem perturbed by the possible absence of Hermione. She graciously stepped up in front of the area before the largest picture windows beside the ballroom and cast a nonverbal spell at her throat.

"I would like to extend my gratitude for your attendance tonight. I am very pleased to announce one of the driving forces behind the fundraiser tonight, Lavender Brown." She looked expectantly at Lavender, who was at the edge of the crowd, waiting.

Lavender seemed rather pale and wide-eyed, Blaise thought. He leaned over and whispered, "We have this handled."

She managed a smile at him, reaching out to grab his hand before she left him behind to stand beside Narcissa. She had Hermione's speech in one hand.

A ripple of murmurs rippled through the crowd as she came into sight.

He could tell she was struggling to not pull her hair forward to lie more securely over her neck. He watched her do it often enough in private.

Instead, she slowly lifted her wand and mouthed the spell to elevate her volume.

"My name is Lavender Brown, and for the past year I've been working closely with the Werewolf Assistance Group. Our mission is to provide a resource those afflicted have never had available before, aided by a network of supporters. That resource is community."

"I know you're wondering what makes this different than any other charity you may donate gold to. This cause requires more than finances, it requires something that is even harder to part with. That is compassion. Because there's no such creature as a werewolf." Lavender tilted her head up, looking around the crowd with that focus she had when deep in this topic.

"They are witches and wizards, and the children of witches and wizards. The only reason Fenrir Greyback had so many numbers was because the children he bit often had no home to return to. The Werewolf Legislation that was passed restricts the victims of attacks from ever having employment, housing, or schooling."

"The language may not state this exactly, but the requirement _is_ that a registered person not live within five miles of any residence occupied by a Wizard or Muggle. That isolates them from their parents, family, and any chance of living amongst regular society."

Lavender seemed to falter under the collective stare of the society she grew up in.

"They are also required to inform their employer, who is then obligated to inform all patrons or customers. Given the strong prejudice against these people, this hampers earning wages. Many of those still living aren't able to enter society. Our program is readying housing as well as instructors who will build their social, living, and work skills."

"These aren't dangerous people, but they can be desperate. Desperation can drive a person to do unsavory, downright dangerous actions. This isn't just for their sake. It's for the safety of every witch and wizard."

"This is for the benefit of everyone. A person without hopes and dreams will never be able to become anything but lost."

Lavender slid the parchment from in front of her away, tucking it in the folds of the robe. "Now, for a few words from Professor Damocles Belby on his progress with Wolfsbane Potion. Thank you."

There was a smattering of polite applause, and Blaise hated how quickly it died. She came down the steps and he reached for her hand.

She gripped his hand back tightly, a shiver running up her arm. They stood together while the Potions Master spoke on the progress he made, tacitly giving credit to other sources without naming them. Professor Snape had preferred it that way.

* * *

Draco really hoped that this was their destination. It seemed to take forever for him just sitting out alone in the middle of the night, before a long black car pulled up.

A part of him felt a desperate sort of pain as the first person to climb out of the car was Potter.

She really had come here to marry Weasley. Yet the thought of leaving without speaking to her never crossed his mind.

He watched them all climb out of the car, and the way she moved. Hermione stepped out in her lovely robes, partially tamed curls flowing down her shoulders.

He couldn't see many details from this far, making sure to keep out of sight. However, as they approached the doors he slipped along the wall.

For a terrible moment Potter stiffened, but after a long glance around he led Ginny inside. He forgot there was an Auror amongst them. Disillusionment wasn't exactly an Invisibility Cloak, was it?

Draco did manage to slip in last, glad that Weasley held open the door and not Potter.

"I'll go speak with the owner. I'll take care of everything." Weasley took Hermione's shoulders in his hands, kissing her forehead.

"There's a powder room." Ginny beckoned to Hermione, and they disappeared further into the building.

Careful to stay out of the line of sight of the scarred wizard, he crept down the hall after them. Trying to bust in on two witches seemed to be a bad idea, and he couldn't overhear anything no matter how hard he pressed his ear to the door.

What if she stayed in there the whole time? He hadn't exactly been involved in this aspect of weddings before, he was always sitting comfortably in a seat while the activity happened behind closed doors.

He was just starting to think of diversion tactics when the door opened.

"-I'll be back." Ginny said over her shoulder before walking down the hall.

Draco caught the door before it closed all the way, and stepped inside quietly.

Hermione was standing with her back to him in front of a full-length mirror. Before he could get a glimpse of her face, she turned so quick he barely had time to duck before the wall where his head had been dented.

Another spell sizzled past him, smelling strangely of...gingerbread baking? He forgot out of all the wands here, hers was the most dangerous, Auror or not.

"Granger!" He hissed, wand in his fingers ready to cast a Shield Charm. Another spell just missed him, the same scent lingering in the air.

He revealed himself, straightening quickly so her first glimpse of him wasn't stooped over to avoid...whatever that spell was.

Her wand immediately went up, her expression surprised, then puzzled. "Draco?"

Draco smoothed down the front of his robes. "In person. Now, what was that spell?" She looked so achingly lovely. "Were you going to turn me into a Gingerbread man?"

She fiddled with her wand, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to put it away just yet. "Not exactly. I...wait, what are you doing here?" She was discomfited about the attack, but she was far too quick to let that one slide.

"Your plans were overheard."

"Ah." Her hand finally lowered, and her expression dropped into something hopeless. He knew the look, he'd felt it often enough.

"Come to cuff me for leaving without making my excuses to the hostess?" It was hard to tell whether she was trying to be light-hearted or maybe, maybe she knew why he was here and didn't want to hear it.

Perhaps she was trying to turn away his attentions in the most obvious way she knew how. She was a Gryffindor after all.

"No. I…"

 _You what, Draco?_ No words stuck in his throat because all the words he thought about earlier fled his mind. It was hard to believe that he even _had_ words to say at some point, they were so completely blank.

Hermione waited, and waited. At his continued silence, her eyes went to half-lidded and she smiled. Though it wasn't a real smile. "I'm sorry for nearly...hitting you. However, I am-"

"My mother likes you," he blurted.

Hermione's lips remained parted for a moment before she looked completely thrown off guard.

The words spilled out of his own mouth of their own volition. "She heard about our attendance at the Burgundy Hotel. She told my father to shut his mouth about insulting Muggleborns, and planned out this fundraiser...for you."

"I'll...have to thank her," she said slowly, cautiously. Her hand clenched as she moved it out of his sight. But he could see it in the mirror.

Once again the urge to run took hold of him. He was better than that though. Lucius always acted like Malfoys never lost, and honestly, that had caused Draco to never try for anything he wasn't sure he could have.

And to deeply scorn the tiny failures he suffered along the years, loathing himself and everyone who had seen them. And this time he couldn't win if he didn't risk everything.

"Why are you marrying Weasley?" Even as the words left his mouth, he wished he could shove them back down.

Her shoulders stiffened, chin tilting up defensively. "I hardly think-"

"I'm sorry I asked that."

The silence that fell between them was so deep he could hear the quickened pulse in his throat.

"Thank you for apologizing." The shock of him saying sorry seemed to soften her.

Strangely enough, he felt lighter as well. That didn't turn out so badly. He took a step closer, really looking at her. The loose curls that were already starting to escape their smoothing product and frizz around the crown. Her brown eyes and pretty face, the lips he wanted to kiss but also to listen to.

"You don't owe me anything." He pushed down the urge to touch her cheek, keeping his hands relaxed at his sides. "But I want a chance. I want the chance to get to know you. And perhaps, one day, the chance to be outside a door like this one, knowing you're preparing to walk down the aisle to a different future. I don't care if not everyone I know came to see us. Maybe everyone you know won't come either. But I wouldn't care because I'll have you."

Her lips parted and her eyes widened as she listened to him. She looked rather shocked, but not horrified or repulsed. She looked as if he had presented her with something she was sure she could never have.

"I didn't kiss her willingly. I did move her back and let her know she wasn't for me after she did it. Even though I don't owe you anything either, I wouldn't do that. I've been hoping for what seems like forever to have you in my arms."

Cautiously he reached out to touch her fingertips, and when she didn't move he slid his fingers in hers.

She had the look of someone waking up, and it was deeply bittersweet. "Draco. I can't just...leave."

Draco held her hand, so close in front of her now that she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. "Don't Bond yourself to him this way. You two already have a bond and…" he swallowed the dislike, "I won't ever have that with you. But does he really occupy the place I want to have? You look so unhappy."

Her eyes became suspiciously shiny for a moment before her shoulders slumped. "I don't know how I got here," she whispered.

"But you don't have to stay here. No matter how hard it is, you owe yourself that."

Slowly, so slowly he closed the distance between them until their lips touched.

Hermione sucked in a breath, which trembled as it was released softly against his skin.

He deepened the kiss slowly, simply holding one of her hands in his. It felt like coming home. She was worth the wait.

The door opened. "The ceremony room is-woah!"

They immediately moved apart, he caught a glimpse of Hermione's wild eyes before he looked at a very surprised Ginny.

Ginny goggled at them before suddenly turning and shutting the door.

"Ow!" A masculine voice protested from the other side of the door.

"Uhh, nobody can come in and see the bride, it's bad luck!" Ginny called through the door, pulling out her wand and locking it silently.

"Aren't you in there?" Potter asked, somewhat puzzled. "I thought that was only for the gr-"

"She's naked, Harry!" Ginny hissed.

"...oh. Well, I'll just wait with Ron then." Came the mollified answer, and the redheaded witch listened at the door for nearly ten seconds before turning slowly.

Her eyes fell on their hands, still conjoined. She tucked away her wand, somewhat relunctantly, before looking at both of them with an raised eyebrow. "I would love to hear an explanation, if you don't mind."

* * *

I actually love that you guys are like Hermione nooo why, and aww Blaise and Lavender.

I'm so glad some of you are enjoying the Blavender! (Zabrowni? Brabini?) I'm greatly enjoying Blaise and Lavender as well.

Thank you so much for all your reviews, especially the ones simultaneously bemoaning and loving the cliffhanger!

I know it was later than normal, but my computer wheezed and puttered to a stop. Still getting it fixed, but she's been repaired lots of times of the last decade and is still going! One day, one day I'll give her a proper retirement :D


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione bit her lip as she stared at Ginny's expectant face.

She squeezed Draco's fingers hard as she tried to think of what to say. Ginny was her friend, but she was also Ron's sister. And this looked very bad.

"I can't marry Ron." Hermione tried not to sound desperate, truly. But her lower lip trembled, and heat flushed just beneath her hands.

"I can understand that as a whole," Ginny said slowly, dragging her eyes from their fingers laced together. "Is it because…?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "I haven't been...we haven't." She darted a glance at Draco, the sight of his profile sending a funny pang of anxiety and thrill through her. "He's not the reason. I'm the reason."

She thought it important everyone knew that. It was something she was just discovering. Yet Hermione still tried to explain, the words spilled out of her lips. "It's not Ron. He tries. He's patient more often, and he...he think I'm…" She bit her lip hard, but it didn't help this time.

Ginny walked forward and hugged her tightly. Draco's hand slipped away, but it didn't matter. It felt good to be embraced, especially when Hermione couldn't stop the fine tremors running from her chest outward.

"Don't cry," Ginny murmured. "You're my sister. And," she pulled back enough to look at her and the tears that slipped down Hermione's cheeks. "It's not my life, Hermione. I've seen my mum fly off the handle first time 'round too much to not figure out sometimes it's best to just listen once a while."

Her brown eyes darted toward Draco, who had been quite silent.

Ginny continued, "Now I'm just going to force Veritaserum down his throat and if he pleases me, I'll make him marry you to prove his intentions." But she smiled after.

Hermione felt a broken smile rise up, shaking her head.

Ginny squeezed her shoulder. "You're right, I'll get all distracted in asking Malfoy humiliating questions that I will then use to blackmail him later."

Hermione felt a semi-hysterical giggly rise up, and she hugged Ginny back hard. "I'm sorry."

The redheaded witch cleared her throat and summoned a handkerchief to hand over. "No need for that," she said, more briskly. "But you do have an obligation to fill." She softened her tone. "You have to go talk to him."

Hermione found herself nodding. Yes, she did. Ron, by her wand, struggled so much because he wore his heart on his sleeve. She made the joke once about him having the emotional range of a teaspoon.

But really, he just felt one thing and it all came spilling out like a burst dam. He was a lot like his Mum that way. Ginny definitely took after Arthur, she was a bit more measured in her responses and had an unerring sense of self.

Hermione envied that confidence right now.

She turned to look at Draco, who had been standing close the entire time. He looked strangely solemn. Not aloof or reserved or blank, but as if he was aware of the gravity of the situation for her.

At least, that's what she told herself. She desperately wanted him to understand that though she wasn't in love with Ron, he was important to her. And she was about to go break his heart.

* * *

"I hate being not pretty."

Blaise nursed his drink, sitting beside a clearly agitated Lavender.

Once the speeches were over, she had headed toward the bar and drank down a half-filled glass of elf-made wine and immediately ordered another.

Now he had seen his fair share of drinking binges and the milder version of washing away the taste of recent events, and he was afraid she was 'in it' to win it.

"You don't think you're pretty?" As much as he wanted to lavish all over that he thought she was gorgeous, wondrous, and lovely to his eyes, he thought on Draco's words. So he listened.

Lavender tried to get the attention of the tender again, and blew out a sigh as she looked at Blaise. "I used to be pretty. Now whenever someone looks at me…"

Her hand raised halfway, but dropped before she could gesture to the thick scarring along her neck and lower face.

 _I don't see it._ He gestured to the wizard behind the counter, and a glass of wine appeared immediately. He nudged it closer to her.

She ran a finger along the long stem, before cupping the bottom and lifting it to her lips.

He waited until she settled the bottom back on the wood top - empty - before he spoke. "People can be drawn to...differences. Some of the most famous witches and wizards of our time had traits that stood out."

Lavender tried again to catch the bartender's attention, but he walked by without noticing her.

Oh, he wanted to deliver a stunning set-down to the man. But he had a feeling that this wouldn't help her. It would only make him feel better.

Her eyes turned back to him, slightly wide. "Oh?"

He had the feeling she was teetering on that precipice between sorrow and hysteria.

"Look at our professors. Dumbledore wore the most outrageous of robes. The purple robe with silver stars had to have been planned, don't you think?"

She made a funny noise in the back of her throat that might have been humour.

"Snape had his sweeping robes and hair. Could you imagine him in a teal jumper and silver trousers?" He was rewarded with a helpless giggle from her lips. "My mum, who is quite a classic beauty, told me that people differentiate themselves by two things, predictability and distinguishability."

"I'm hard to miss."

 _You're hard to not love._ "There's an advantage to not being bland. Look at Hermione, I'd recognize that hair anywhere."

Lavender tried to give him a look of reproof, but it faded under the arrival of another glass. She took a moderate sip. "I'm sorry. You're here listening to me lament, instead of enjoying the evening with your friends."

"Friends is a generous word," Blaise said thoughtfully. "After all, you're my friend. I'd even go so far as to say you know me best here, with the exception of my mother."

She seemed to think on this. "I think of you the same. Except without the mother part. They haven't spoken to me since fifth year."

Blaise had an idea already that was the case. The Browns were notoriously typical Purebloods. Despite their somewhat mundane last name, they scorned all hints of commingling with anyone of inferior birth.

She decidedly placed her empty glass away from her, and turned toward him more fully. "Thanks for listening to me, Blaise. I never thought about it like that."

He nodded, resisting the urge to squeeze her hand. Certain times it would be acceptable as comfort, but he was being so careful so she didn't think he was being pushy.

"We should reschedule that lunch."

To his surprise, she began to nod. "Alright. I think that would be nice."

Blaise thought he'd have to tell Draco that his advice wasn't horrible. Any nicer than that and the other wizard's ego would grow to gargantuan size.

He smiled privately, watching her lift her head higher.

* * *

Hermione opened the door quietly, waiting two minutes as Ginny requested. It was to get Harry out of the room and make sure Ron wasn't, say, waiting at the end of the aisle with a marriage official.

As hoped, he was waiting in the foyer as she walked in.

Ron turned his head upon seeing her, a smile freezing as he really saw her face. He stood up slowly, the lines of his shoulders higher than normal.

"You don't want to do this, do you?" His voice was almost level, but it trembled on the lines of...scared.

Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head. That was cowardly of her.

"It's alright. I understand if you want a real wedding. I know it's important for your mum to be here." He was trying, he really was. He even managed something resembling a smile.

And now the time came where if she said nothing, her next few days would be miserable. Truly, Hermione hadn't meant to lead him on. They were engaged, for Merlin's sake, and she had every intention of following through at that time.

"Ron…"

He took a step closer to her. "You're upset. I upset you. Let's just go back to your flat, and-"

"Ron."

He stepped forward again, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. "-we can sleep, and by morning…"

She didn't turn her hand to twine in his. It took a lot to not weep at the growing fear on his face, and the way he seemed to hope she loved him as much as he had loved her. It drove home how not listening to her heart had affected him too.

"Don't do this." He whispered, all vestiges of hope crumbling under the onslaught of her silence, the way she looked at him.

"I'm sorry."

He swallowed thickly, two paths of wetness sliding down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

It reminded her of when they cried together at Dumbledore's funeral, and again at Fred's funeral.

He held her unresponsive hand, but not tightly. "Don't you love me?"

Hermione raised one hand, gripping the side of his cheek desperately. "Of course I do. I've seen you at your best, your worst, and plenty in between. And this had nothing to do with any of those times."

Even though it was a good start, and he was giving her the chance to say all those things she had thought in her head, it all fled. She only

knew it felt wrong, but all the details that made up that were gone. They seemed so small.

Perhaps it would simply be best to say no and not try and defend her decision. She knew if someone left her and told her all the little things she did that drove them off, it would be like a dagger in the chest.

She raised her other hand to grip the other side of his face, gentler this time, and tipped his forehead against hers.

Several raindrops splattered on her hands to mingle with the tears sliding down her thumbs.

They just stood like that, the sound of his hitched breathing a benediction and punishment all at once.

* * *

Hermione sat alone on the seat just inside the foyer.

Harry and Ginny had already left, with the murmured request from each to talk to them later. Right now hadn't been the time for conversation. Harry did offer to leave the car, but she said no.

She was exhausted, and the skin beneath her eyes was beginning to chap with how often she wiped them after everyone was gone. Finally, she had given up and just let the tears drip down.

A rustle next to her denoted another person sitting beside her. She didn't have to look to know that it wasn't Draco.

The young man next to her looked to be in his late twenties, with serious blue eyes and cowlicked brown hair. He didn't say anything.

It was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock nearby.

"I've seen my fair share of joy here, and tears as well." He had a hint of brogue. "But rarely do I see the look he has when he looks at you."

Stung, she lifted her head quickly to look at him in some horror when she saw the other person.

Draco was standing in the doorway, watching her with mingled apology and something else that made her breath catch.

She didn't even notice the officiant get up and depart, her attention was all for the one waiting for her.

Hermione stood up as Draco came near, his fingers pushing her loose hair behind one ear.

"Do you want me to take you back to your flat?"

She shook her head. "I want to give him time to pack." Ron hadn't ever lived with her, but he still had belongings there. She bit her lip, looking up at him through her wet lashes.

"You can spend the night at the Manor. Just for sleep." His fingers curled behind her ear, stroking the sensitive skin.

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath and smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. "I appreciate that."

"It's still early for everyone to have gone home though. Let me buy you a butterbeer."

They both left the lovely little building in Gretna Green and and Apparated to the end of the road in Hogsmeade.

"The Lonely Siren?" Hermione looked up at the half-hidden sign as he opened the door for her.

"Travelers, mostly," he murmured as he stepped in place behind her, hand on the small of her back. "They have rooms as well, but I'd rather our first night not be here." He threw her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

It looked completely empty, save for server.

Draco stepped up to the bar top with a middle-aged lady behind it cleaning a glass with a spotless white towel. "Can I get two hot Butterbeers?"

Almost in slow motion, Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She gripped Draco's arm just as a flash went off.

She lifted a hand, squinting past the spots in her vision.

Parvati stood there in a smart purple robe in front of a booth, one hand on her hip and the other holding an expensive wizarding camera. "What an unexpected delight!" She laughed a little while walking toward the door. Opening it, she threw a look over her shoulder, "Oh and Draco, the offer of an interview still stands."

Hermione just stared as the door closed behind her former roommate, feeling all the blood leave her face.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Oooooh, that's not good!

I know some of you were waiting for the time when Ron forced her to let go, but I like that she was strong enough to go just because he wasn't the right wizard for her. That is very hard to do!

Still waiting on my computer to be up and running! Luckily I have a notebook and friends who have nice things XD

Hope you all enjoy and feel free to review! Even if I can't check it right away, know that it's very appreciated, and you keep me scribbling away!

To those who just review to be mean, that's okay too, keep it coming. It makes me appreciate my lovely ones even more ;P


	16. Chapter 16

Draco knew he wasn't the most patient man. Doubtless he wasn't the only one imbued with this knowledge.

Yet seeing the nauseous look cross over Granger-Hermione's pale face struck him as suddenly more important than...himself.

It was a strange feeling he didn't have for people outside his family. He did remember what was said earlier, about tucking away any 'selfish impulses' for Hermione's sake.

After Granger left he had cut up nasty with Weasel-She. The witch had actually been a lot more concerned with hiding him from Potter than arguing, so it had been a little one-sided. But she had snapped that advice at him and it...stuck with him.

And here he thought that whole disgrace of a blood traitor family was useless.

Probably not to Hermione though. She didn't think they were useless. He'd have to prepare himself for her reacting in that vein.

Steeling himself, he settled a hand on her shoulder as she stared at the spot where Parvati disappeared. "We could stay here if you're not feeling up to going anywhere."

It was a clean and cozy enough establishment if one had little money. There were several threadbare spots on the seat covers...he'd rather chug a bottle of Skele-Gro than sleep here, but she was important.

Since she didn't immediately say yes or no, he looked over at the server. "Have any rooms available?"

"Whole night, or hourly?" she asked as if she said it a thousand times.

"Whole night." That certainly made staying here a hundred percent less appealing, though he had already been aware of-

"Hourly?" Hermione said, in a strangled voice. She was also turning a very becoming color of pink...which was starting to turn into a dangerous red.

"It was just a suggestion," Draco muttered hurriedly, so she didn't crack right down the middle.

"Is this some sort of…" She couldn't seem to find the right word, so she huffed indignantly while staring at him closely.

"I wasn't suggesting it for _that_ , I'd never. Look at this place."

She crossed her arms. "Not good enough for a proper witch, but it's just me, right?"

He had a feeling she was, ah, not in a good place right now. "Granger, calm down. No need to overreact."

"Overreact?!"

Oh Merlin, he implied a witch was out of order, it took everything in him not cover his ears. His mother had a wicked ear-cuffing jinx she hadn't applied in years, and yet he remembered it well.

Her voice was, for lack of a better word, shrilly as she pointed a finger at him. "Parvati is going to have a field day that the picture was taken in a...a…"

"Convenient travelling inn?"

"A...a…" Her cheeks were still quite red, which with her slightly wild curls and glittering eyes, was rather fetching. Scary, though.

"Your Butterbeers are ready." The woman from behind intoned, not bothering to hide her interest in the scene happening not ten feet from her.

"I had no plans to stay here, it's just a very discreet place normally," he hissed quietly as he leaned close. "Many high placed officials bring their…" He stopped quickly.

Open mouth, insert broom, as the saying went.

Before she could explode, he ushered her toward the door. "Careful, careful now...hex me when we're in private…"

He managed to get her outside the door into the night, only keeping one hand on her shoulder.

He left behind their warm Butterbeers and took a really good look at her. She was shivering slightly, her skin still pale with whatever else was running through her head.

Tamping down his normal vitriolic reaction to anything problematic, he bit his tongue about asking why she cared about those gits so much. He had a feeling that would lead to an argument.

"I'll just take us to the Manor, alright? We have over two dozen extra bedrooms." He put on his uppity droning voice and was rewarded with a slight smile from Hermione, her color returning. It did work better to remain calm, didn't it?

* * *

Hours and hours after Draco Malfoy escorted one Hermione Granger up the stairs and gently nudged her toward a bedroom near his after a considerate goodnight, Narcissa was enjoying her tea and a chocolate biscuit.

She often indulged after a successful night. Oh, it had been successful. The fervor of a former 'One of Their Own' standing up to address the gathering run rampant the night before. Speculation was high that Brown had come away from the war with more than just scars.

A talked about event marked a smashing evening; people would clamor to come to the next Malfoy soiree.

She looked at the two empty seats next to her, neutral about one and fondly exasperated toward the second. Draco had taken to the unsavory habit of having a lie-in on most mornings.

Narcissa couldn't find it in her heart to be upset about it.

A house elf sent the morning mail on a silver platter that landed next to her elbow.

She languidly plucked the top mail, and moved it aside to the 'address later' pile, and picked up the paper.

Idly flipping to the third page where the gossip column _Witch Whispers_ was featured. It was now her favorite section since it began a year ago.

A picture of her own son, and Miss Granger gripping his arm as she recoiled a bit, jumped out at her. There was also with a tired woman washing a mug behind a counter trying to sneak out the picture. The place was not familiar.

Arching her eyebrows, she read on.

 _ **Secret Rendezvous for the Malfoy Heir?**_

 _Shortly after Draco Malfoy's probation is over, this intrepid reporter discovered him in The Lonely Siren, which is part traveler's stop, part Haven for wealthy adulterers. As photographs tell a thousand words, he was not alone._

 _Hermione Granger, promised to another, strolled in with him cool as you please. They spoke together with their heads bent close, undoubtedly whispering words best left to the imagination._

 _Given the notorious nature of the supposedly innocuous establishment, there is no question in this witch's mind what reason they happened upon the out-of-the-way Inn at the sleepy end of Hogsmeade._

 _After all, it's reputation has been passed down from one generation to the next, and Lucius Malfoy must have passed on that knowledge…_

Narcissa didn't even read the rest, the newspaper burst into scarlet flames in her elegant fist.

"Screechy!" she shrieked. "Clean up this mess!" The blackened flecks of ash drifted to the table at her elbow.

The tiny house elf squeaked and began to scrub the mess immediately.

Narcissa glared at the empty seat beside her so fiercely the house elf cowered as it cleaned. The chill in her voice could have frozen the very air around her.

"I want my riding habit laid out immediately. And fetch me my best riding crop...I have business to attend to."

* * *

Lavender was beginning to feel somewhat uneasy. She had received an owl this morning requesting that lunch be changed to breakfast, and honestly, it had been a welcome invitation.

Though once she had never arrived anywhere early, she had entered Rosa Lee Tea fifteen minutes before their meeting time.

Though the small tea shop was busy, she could clearly see three tables open and not one of the servers had approached her yet.

Uneasily, she thought perhaps that given its tiny size, a customer should just take a seat. She was loathe to get the attention of the bustling workers who had not yet glanced once in her direction.

She twisted the soft Pashmina scarf around her fingers, running her fingers along the top to check if it had slipped. Her mother had given her a whole set for her fourteenth birthday.

The only reason she was wearing it was that it watched her dark blue robes. It seemed silly to dress nicely for a spot of breakfast with a friend, but Lavender had nonetheless.

She almost smiled winsomely to herself. It almost reminded her of the many times she had spent most of the morning putting extra care into her appearance...and she had needed it the least while in school.

Then she had been whole, then she had been loved.

Blaise finally arrived, and before she could gratefully call a greeting, one of the witches had appeared before him.

"Hello sir! There is available seating over here; may I tell you about our specials today? The chef has procured…"

As she rambled on, he looked over at Lavender in some puzzlement.

As she looked into his dark eyes, she was struck again by how good looking he was. Just because they were friends didn't mean she hadn't noticed - the scarring hadn't affected her eyes.

Then he was nodding at the server. "That sounds delightful," he checked the shiny little letter on her robe, "Tilly. We'll take a seat for two." He motioned to Lavender with one hand.

She came forward hesitantly, and noting his hand hadn't dropped, settled her hand in his. He must have noted how cold it was, but didn't comment.

Tilly's eyes dropped to their joined hands, her heavy-lidded gaze lighting on Lavender for a second with such scorn it took the witch aback. Was this...server jealous that quickly?

Confused, she followed a suddenly stiff Blaise as the witch showed them their seats. Her hand was released and she watched her friend take a seat, clearly disgruntled. Had she done something wrong?

As soon as the server left, Blaise leaned over the table with traces of lingering irritation. "How long have you been here?"

Licking her lips, she said quietly, "Not long."

Blaise shot a look around the restaurant again, settling back against his seat. "How strange."

"Sometimes people avoid looking at me." She kept her voice as neutral as possible, so it didn't sound like she was asking for pity. Her hand began to stray up toward her scarf again, and she made it drop again.

Blaise didn't say anything, but he looked unsatisfied as he picked up the single sheet of the menu. "Have you eaten before?" His tone was more normal now.

Lavender lifted the sheet, breathing deeply to try and relax. "No. I've heard their teas are magical." She attempted a little smile.

He chuckled, running a finger down the options. "The Roseroot blend is quite unique, but has a lovely flavor."

She nodded, anything sounded fine to her. Perhaps it would calm her nerves a bit to have a nice steamy cuppa.

Tilly returned, smiling only at Blaise. "What would you like today, sir?"

Blaise was looking at the menu. "One Roseroot, please, and a Sweet Everlasting." He glanced at Lavender. "It's smoky, but the properties of stimulating hunger are worth it." He winked.

Immediately ducking her eyes to cover her blush, she almost missed the sharp intake from the witch standing by their table.

It took Lavender a moment to realize he was flirting for show, Tilly had stalked off, and that killed her pleased embarrassment. He undoubtedly had to fend off advances all the time, and she didn't mind helping. But it would be foolish to assume anything more.

She had been telling herself for over a week now not to read into his charming personality.

Lavender had been accused of being 'flirty' while just being friendly too often to do that to him.

She finally looked up. Blaise was staring sharply to their left. and her gaze followed the direction of his glare.

Three of the workers were whispering together, and when one shot a glance their way, she was even more confused. Maybe people reacted to her scars, but rarely did it cause this much trouble.

One of the other witches broke off and headed their way, the name on her robe read Lydia, and stopped next to them.

Lavender idly noted the shiny blonde hair tucked in a bun and the barely disguised revulsion twitching on her lips. "I'm going to have to ask that your...guest leave."

Blaise stared at her hard, then flicked a glance at Lavender. "Why? We're just ordering tea."

The witch seemed to stand taller, eyes bright. "I'm sorry, but we don't serve animals here."

Blaise blinked. He looked at the woman, then Lavender, and said firmly, "I only see a witch and a wizard here. And where do you bloody-"

Before his voice could continue on its angry trajectory, Lavender stood up. Her cheeks felt suffused with scalding heat, her whole body was becoming sweaty and flushed from scarf to her practical boots.

"I'll leave." Really though, she wanted to run out, burst into tears, or perish from humiliation. Perhaps all three at once.

Blaise stood up, rudely knocking his shoulder into Lydia to take Lavender's arm lightly. "This won't stand." The quiet hiss made her hair stand up on her arms, it was so filled with venom.

She waited until they walked outside to grip his forearm. "Don't-don't get angry…" Not on her account, anyway.

Blaise's arm felt like marble even beneath the fabric, he was so tense. "Does she have any idea who...and where do they get the idea…" Suddenly the anger leeched away, and he looked at her in consternation. "No, no..."

Lavender ducked her head. She understood. She had been _outed_ as a werewolf, despite not being one. It was ironic and terrible all at once, but she should have known that nobody scolded the most influential families in wizarding England without consequences.

* * *

Ginny flipped through the Daily Prophet, enjoying the morning off from training. Being on a Professional Quidditch was definitely a dream come true, but it took a physical toll.

She straightened up immediately at spotting a very familiar face - two faces. One startled, the other half turned from the camera, but the pale blond hair was unmistakable. She groaned as she read the title.

Bloody _Witch Whispers_ , it predicted trouble in the Potter marriage at least once a month. Parvati and her sneaky Slytherin partner had made life miserable before the wedding to the point that security had to be hired.

Rumours were nothing new, but the harassment had nearly ruined all her good feelings of planning such a joyous event.

She skimmed through the article.

 _Why else would these two be sneaking around in places only secret lovers went? Could it be that Hermione Granger is having an affair with the admittedly handsome archrival of her fiance?_

 _The youngest Weasley son certainly does not have the looks, brains, or connections to hold onto a known ambitious witch._

Ginny threw down the paper before finishing, in a sudden panic. Of course all that wasn't true, but Parvati and her fellow author would know Ron's insecurities. The Slytherins loved to taunt him about being poor, that their father was a loon, and how hideously stupid and ugly he was.

Ginny knew, because they did the same to her. They had probably done it to every Weasley to step foot in Hogwarts since they became blood traitors. The mockery often took a vicious turn, if the opportunity arose.

She had to find Ron though. Perhaps he wouldn't care about the barbed comments about himself, but this was a real Beater-bash to a broken heart.

He wasn't at the Burrow when she Flooed, and he wasn't at the shop. Unfortunately she couldn't Floo-call Harry, so she sent a Patronus and hurried to get to the Ministry.

The message had to be subtle, in case Ron was there with her husband. She hadn't received any response as she arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry, struggling to get to the elevators. It didn't seem busier than any other morning, but she was in more of a hurry than normal.

The ride up was excruciating as several scenarios ran through her head. Luckily it was only one floor.

As the elevators opened though, she was greeted to quite the unusual sight. The MLE department was chaotic. Aurors and personnel were liberally plucking letters out of the air, shoving them in boxes she recognized as Containment Crates.

She moved through the rapidly moving bodies, nearly getting bumped by an Unspeakable, until she spotted Harry.

"Harry! What's going on?"

His hair looked even more wild as he grabbed a floating packet and stuffed it safely in a Crate. He ran his fingers through his hair when he saw her. "Ginny, can you grab that?"

She looked to her left where he pointed, and snatched a Howler from the air and shoved it at him. He grabbed a new container and shut it in as the letter began to smoke.

"What is going on?" she asked again, bewildered.

A grim line touched Harry's mouth, his green eyes darkening. "You'd think people would stop taking the Daily Prophet as gospel, but by the grace of Merlin they never learn."

Ginny looked around again at the barely controlled chaos. "Why would people be sending Howlers and angry letters _here_?"

"You probably haven't gotten a chance to read it yet, have you?" He pulled a folded paper off a desk and flipped several pages in. His gaze flitted to the bottom. "Listen to this tripe. ' _Given her meteoric rise to Assistant Director of the Magical Law Department, one has to wonder if it is irresponsible to to have authorized an early release from house arrest for Lucius Malfoy._

He kept reading, furiously. " _The Ministry has not given any official statement, leading intelligent observers to come to the conclusion the decision was not above-board. It seems Draco Malfoy is following in his family's tradition of having "friends" in high places.'_ "

He threw down the paper. "As if the Ministry has to report every single-blast!" He had to chase down a Howler that an assistant missed, leaving Ginny standing there, rather lost.

Clearly Harry wouldn't be able to help in her search for Ron. Not to mention her search had expanded to include Hermione as well. And if she saw Parvati Patil, that witch was going to find out Beater wasn't just a position in Quidditch.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Sweet Salazar everything's gone mad! Don't you just love it?! XD

Oh, and it's fixed, it's fixed! My baby is back where it belongs! My computer, of course. Thank Merlin, Gryffindor, and all the unappreciated house elves working in technology!

Thank you so much for all your reviews! I have quite a bit to re-download because it also had a factory reset done X.X but I'm back! I will not neglect you all so again, my lovelies 3


	17. Chapter 17 - Part 1

Hermione stretched out luxuriously, swaddled in satin and lying on the softest mattress in existence. She knew it wasn't her bed immediately, but she jammed the feather-down pillow over her head to block all other thoughts nudging at her.

That never worked though.

Memories rushed over her unwillingly, and she made a despairing noise into the other pillow. She didn't want to get up, she just wanted to sleep more in this cocoon of exquisite warmth.

But she couldn't.

Sweeping the blankets back and throwing her legs over the side, she took a second look around the room. It was large and decorated in dark woods and bronze, the touches of color a midnight cerulean.

She summoned her dress robes from the night before, touching the blue material. She wanted to Vanish it and never see it again.

Prancing around in her underthings wasn't really her style though. She reached for her wand on the squat dresser near the bed and Transfigured it to a dark red robe. It wouldn't last, of course, but long enough to get through to the morning.

 _Knock knock._

The sound was polite but firm, and she strode barefoot to the door. "Malfoy?" she called lightly through the wood.

"You'll have to be more specific when staying here," came the amused drawl.

She opened the door immediately, looking up into the silver eyes of Draco and clearing her throat. "Draco." Even though she was using the name more, it still felt new on her tongue.

"Hermione." He looked at her face closely, and his gaze flickered up.

Hermione tried to control the sudden flush as she remembered what her hair looked like in the morning. Rumpled was a generous word, but that's what she was going with to spare her tattered vanity. "I just woke up."

"I know. Screechy told me."

Hermione started to roll her eyes, rather affronted that he had a house elf...a...oh! "I thought you sent all of them to S.P.E.W.! I mean, the Ministry!"

"Oh, we gave her clothes, but she came over with Mum from the Blacks, you try and get her to leave." Draco wore a sardonic smile, not challenging but rueful.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then closed it reluctantly. She had met the Blacks' house elves, Harry still kept Kreacher. Now that the war was over he had offered to release the house elf.

The maddened weeping and full-body tantrum had lasted approximately until Harry gave in and gave up. Then Kreacher had stopped and went back to work with a happy skip to his aging step.

She gave it up and shook her head. "I wouldn't have snuck off, if that's what you were worried about."

"No," he reached out to lifted a tangled curl. "even you wouldn't have left like this."

Batting his hand away with a snort, she sniffed. "I do need to use the loo. I'll freshen up then find my way downstairs. I suppose Screechy has made breakfast?" She could quell all use of sarcasm.

"No, we have a chef now. I think Screechy just lives in my mom's closet."

"Fine, I'll be down after freshening up." She went to shut the heavy door, trying not to pout.

Draco was not one to let anyone have the last word, because just before the door shut he said, "It will be lunch by then!"

Giving the now shut door a smiling glare, she went to second door in the bedroom and stepped into the gorgeous loo. It felt good to trade snarky words with him, as odd as that sounded.

She didn't have to worry about him not keeping up with her or taking a witty phrase or a caustic tone to heart.

Then she felt ashamed for comparing. Ron had actually held his own against her admitted bossiness, but they _didn't_ exactly have the same sense of humour. She was determined to stop doing that, like she needed to keep convincing herself she hadn't made a mistake.

She hadn't, truly.

Managing to almost work a brush through her wild hair, she peeked at the tiny bottles for guests. None of them were Brands she recognized, but one had a description of ' _For Curls!_ '

Hoping that it wouldn't turn her hair more curly, she put a dab on her finger and isolated one lock of hair to spread it on.

Her somewhat dull brown turned shiny and glossy. Mumbling something about galleons buying everything, she figured beggars can't be choosers. Squeezing out half the miniscule bottle onto both hands, she carefully worked it into her hair.

The brush slid through her hair much easier, and it neither tripled her curls or flattened them. It even smelled nicely of heather and sweetgrass, and left the strands smooth and healthy.

She gave up all hesitance and washed her face with the one that said _Facial Cleanser_ and smoothed the silky light-as-air lotion over her hands.

Neither had such a drastic change, but her skin felt soft and clean. Whatever else Hermione didn't do, she did wash up and applied moisturizers after a bath.

Stepping out of the bedroom door had her peeking around the halls uneasily, but nobody was in sight. Draco waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, and that was a relief.

They walked together down two halls to a dining hall. Narcissa was right, the rooms downstairs that Hermione was familiar with looked completely different. She'd have no idea she was in the same house if she didn't have the son walking right next to her.

Indeed the dining table was laden with treats and the mingled scent of croissants and chocolate filled the air. It reminded her sharply of walking into a bakery in France when she went with her parents.

Draco stopped, tilting his head. "How odd. Mum is always here, especially this early."

"Maybe she's having a lie-in." It was still had enough time to be polite and eat, head to her flat to change, and get to work in a decent amount of time.

Draco raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "That word isn't in her vocabulary unless she's having a go at me."

She smiled at that, though her stomach was far more interested in the spread.

"Have at it," Draco gestured with a knowing quirk to his mouth.

Needing little in the way of further persuasion, she piled her plate with delicate pastries, fresh fruit, and streaky bacon. Before she could dig in, a Patronus came zooming by; the silver horse came through the wall in a leaping gait and reined back upon seeing her.

 _Don't come to the Ministry today. Floo me in one hour!_

Goosebumps broke out along her arms. At first it had reminded her of another Patronus bearing news of the Ministry.

Not that she thought it was a similar circumstance, that was silly. But the flashback was so intense, twirling on the dance floor with all the tensely happy guests and Weasleys, and Kingsley's deep voice shocking her into reality…

"Hermione? Hermione?"

It sounded like his voice was trying to reach her underwater, until he touched her arm.

Sucked into the present, she looked at him with wide eyes. She let out a deep breath and shook her head. "It happens sometimes." And she resumed eating as if nothing had happened, ignoring his eyes on her.

"You don't do that during snogging, do you?"

Hermione laughed and flicked a strawberry at him, the strange tension slipping away. At least, one type. Smiling, she picked up another sliced strawberry. "Want to find out?"

Draco stopped short, his light eyes arrested as he watched her.

She gently pressed the cut side to his bottom lip, drawing it across the smooth skin. It left a liquid sheen, and before she finished his top lip she replaced it with her mouth.

The kiss tasted of the succulent fruit and her tongue slid past his parted lips to further taste just him. Even as she delved into the hot confines of his mouth, and he responded needily, she wasn't entirely sure what she felt about Draco. Tenderness, exasperation, desire, distrust. It was a confusing mix, but she wasn't thinking of that right now.

Right now his hands were taut on her shoulders, pushing her closer so she was half-leaning over the table. She moved one hand to slide around the back of his neck, steadying herself and deepening the kiss.

"In my house?" a cold masculine voice crept up and cut through the gentle haze.

Hermione broke the kiss, or Draco did, and they both looked at the door.

Lucius stood there, empty-handed, his face twisted with disgust as he looked at them. His pale eyes were flinty as jagged silver, eyes mostly on his son. He looked over her once, and had she not known Lucius, she might have felt disquiet at the furious outrage glittering in his eyes.

She hadn't meant to place her hand over Draco's, but she thought perhaps he needed it. When she looked though, his face was a mask of icy disregard. What had happened between them?

Whatever questions she had faded when Narcissa strode into the room.

Narcissa had always been dressed in flattering and expensive robes, but this was a different style. The tight forest green robes ran from her wrists to nearly her neck, the jacket style only had one button at her bosom and widened beneath to reveal the stiff spill of a ebony underskirt.

She had a riding crop in one hand, and she pointed it at Lucius' somewhat startled face.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking about morality, you insufferable, disgusting...libertine!" Her elegant face was filled with rage.

Lucius at first wore a stony look, but Hermione swore she saw a flicker of unease cross his mouth before it settled back into a thin line.

"Excuse me, I-"

"Shut! Up!" Narcissa blonde hair was swept in a soft updo, but as upright and sensible as she looked, heat crackled around her in an almost visible outpour. "I have always been supportive of your views on blood purity because I was raised that way as well, but how dare you run upstairs and sulk for days because I need your support now? I would have waited, but not after what I read!"

Lucius looked warily between her and the riding crop, hands lifting slightly as his head crooked a bit. "Narcissa," his tone was a warning and question all at once.

Hermione wished she had more than just this lovely breakfast to munch on. Perhaps popcorn, her parents loved eating that during a show.

Draco sipped at a glass of wine and calmly ate eggs while he watched them.

For such a slim woman Narcissa had a strong voice that carried in the large room. "The Lonely Siren, Lucius? 'Knowledge passed from father to son', Lucius? I forgave the past year because we were both victims, but _adultery_? I'll make you wish you had never touched another witch. I'll make sure you never touch another one."

She whipped the riding crop down in the air, grabbing the handle and pulling her wand free of the implement and pointing it at him.

Hermione felt a moment of unease. Despite the ambivalence of whether Lucius deserved it or not, it would put her off her breakfast to watch another torture in this house.

Draco took another drink of wine.

Lucius raised his hands higher, that flicker began to leak through until he actually looked more unnerved than offended. "Narcissa, I've never, never taken a witch there. Once I met you, nobody could compare." He lifted one hand further than the other, wrist exposed.

There weren't any visible markings Hermione could see, but Narcissa looked from his face to his wrist, trying to gauge the sincerity.

After a second she brandished her wand and cast a silent spell.

Hermione almost squealed, covering her eyes. But she peeked out of the slits after a second.

Lucius had fallen to his knees, expression fighting against obvious pain, his hand still extended out just enough to see the bright red band forming on his wrist. It looked as if the skin were being branded from the inside out.

Narcissa stalked closer, keeping her wand trained on him. She moved the tip sharply, and Lucius lurched upward, somewhere between standing and kneeling.

"You're lucky the Fidelity Flame is intact. From now on, you'll be my husband and a proper Head of the Malfoys. I want to be at the top of the social circles again." She spoke with an almost curious detachment, but her stare was intense as she looked down at him, close enough to kiss. "I want Draco's choices to be his own. And if I even suspect you're even casting a mulish look behind my back, I'll do worse than leave you. I will _destroy_ you. Are we clear?"

Lucius held her gaze before nodding once, still grimacing in pain.

Suddenly he fell to one knee as if the force holding him up had been cut, and he rubbed his once again unblemished wrist as he stood up. The torment slid from his face as if it had never been there, and he walked to the table.

Hermione shrank back for a second with hand on her own wand, but he wasn't heading toward her.

He took a seat and picked up an empty plate, placing eggs and fried tomatoes and beans on his plate. Then he poured two cups of tea and placed two sugars in the one he slid to the seat next to him. "Milk, love?"

Narcissa sat before the tea as imperiously as a Queen, picking up a chocolate filled croissant to nibble on. "No, not this morning."

Their voices were perfectly congenial, without even a hint of frost or edgy anger. Both could have simply been sitting for a pleasant breakfast.

Hermione stared. Now, she was all for empowerment and standing up for one's self, but she felt fair was fair and if a wizard had done that to a witch it would have been horrifying and angered her. Honestly, she sat in her chair like a stone because on one hand Narcissa hadn't been, err, sane, and she had been in some shock. Now she was just...confused?

Lucius picked up a small choux, admiring it. "It took at least a week before our chef could manage a proper English breakfast, but I do enjoy the addition of Parisian cousine. Have you ever been, Miss Granger? To France?"

His tone was so light and casual that she didn't immediately respond, having to gather her scattered wits. "Yes, once. With my parents." She didn't know why she added the second part. Not that she felt afraid of him, certainly not at the moment, but call it a perverse desire to see if he would flinch.

He did not. "A wondrous city. I suppose Draco will want to visit our villa in the Côte d'Azur now that he can travel. The French Riviera, that is. If you two do attend, you must take at least a week to even touch on a quarter of the sights."

Draco set aside his glass and filled a delicate cup with tea. "I hadn't considered that, but it certainly will be lovely this time of year."

He also spoke as if his mother hadn't just almost cursed and, Hermione suspected, actually quasi-tortured his father with some esoteric Marriage Bond spell.

Lucius picked another choux and raised it to Narcissa's lips.

She pursed her mouth, the only sign of any acknowledgement of three minutes ago, but the looked softened and she let him feed her the airy treat.

 _They were all mad._

Hermione finally just picked up her fork and resumed eating.

 _But then, perhaps she was as well._

* * *

Blaise stood outside of a plain door reading QUIBBLER - Luna Lovegood. The building he was in was small and squished between a used bookshop and another selling cheap curios in Diagon Alley.

A spacey witch sitting at the desk in the strangest room he had ever entered had simply waved him to the door. And he had been in quite a few eccentric Pureblood private domains.

Brightly colored plants lined the room and several mundane pots of herbs. Smelly satchels hung from the ceiling.

He knocked twice.

"Come in." A lilting voice called, and he opened the door. The small office was filled with photographs of various shots of nature, and etchings of creatures he'd never seen were pinned next to each.

Luna Lovegood sat behind the desk, smiling widely at him. "Blaise Zabini, hello. Watch out for the Fogfringes, they like open doors."

Alright then. He closed the door behind him and approached her desk. "Luna." He nodded. He didn't believe they had ever spoken before that he could remember, but she was in a different year.

He knew who she was, of course, nobody stood out as much as her without getting snickered and taunted by the other children.

"Have you come by for the reward featured in our last issue for spotting the Green Spacklegroghs?"

He took a seat, might as well be comfortable while he tried to make sense of her lunacy. Come to think of it, that would have been a much cleverer nickname than Loony. "I want to take an ad out in your paper."

"Oh, of course." She shuffled around some parchment to look for one in particular, and there were piles worth.

He decided to make small talk while she did so. "Have you heard the rumours about Lavender Brown being a werewolf?" He might as well be upfront.

She cocked her head as she searched. "No, but it makes sense. Hermione is well on her way to having an army of mistreated creatures to take over the Ministry. The goblins are eagerly awaiting her word I heard."

"I-what?" He blinked at her. "I thought Hermione was your friend?"

"Of course she is," Luna said, looking surprised. "I'm in full support of it. Here," she held out a form tilted 'Quibbler Advertising Space.'

Casting her a dubious look, he turned his attention to the form. It actually seemed all in order, covering prefered page placement, prices, and room to either place the text and picture on the parchment or suggesting attaching the ad.

She smiled pleasantly as she waited.

Blaise cast her another wary look before he began to fill out the pertinent details.

* * *

Author Notes:

This chapter is going to be broken up in Two Parts kinda, because unanswered questions! What's still going on at the Ministry, and with the Gryffindor friends? Who else is writing _Witch Whispers_?!

We'll find out soon enough!

Thank you so much for the encouragement and reviews, I couldn't be happier that so many are enjoying this mad train!

On a side note I believe I'm going to have very good news by next chapter! For now I'll assure my awesome readers I'm slowly getting back into the habit of writing every day, the habit was broken along with my computer but I'll get back to that place! So easy to make bad habits but so hard to continue good ones D:

Thanks again for being fantastic, you make writing this fun ;D


	18. Chapter 17 - Part 2

Ginny slumped until her forehead thwacked the wood of the kitchen table. She had remained at the Ministry, helping stuff letters into Crates until the flow ebbed to next to nothing. She left Harry to organize the process of analyzing the mail for harmful elements.

She was back at the Burrow now, silently lamenting her failure to find Ron. Unsure which direction to take to broaden her search, she came here to think.

"Oh, Ginny!"

Ginny raised her head to tiredly smile at her Mum, who came down the stairs in a nightrobe thrown over a new pink wrapper. It was quite late in the morning already, wasn't it? When she Flooed earlier, nobody had answered. But then Molly had taken to reading more since all her children were grown up. "Morning Mum. Have a nice lie-in?"

Before she could answer, Arthur followed her down and landed a cheek on his wife's pinkening cheek. "Mollywobbles, you do know how to make my morning positively-"

"Ginny is here!" Molly burst out, striving for a cheery tone but sounding quite panicked as well.

Arthur blinked, and sent his youngest a pleased smile. "Oh, so she is. Good morning, are you here for breakfast?"

Her stomach growled immediately in joy at the idea, but she had to regretfully shake her head. "I can't really stay. I don't suppose either of you have seen Ron lately?"

"No," Arthur said thoughtfully, straightening his faded blue robe up. "I better get ready for work, I'm late. It's good seeing you, Ginny, sorry I have to run." He kissed his wife on the cheek again, and must've gotten a handful of bottom before walking upstairs because Molly jumped and squeaked.

Ginny hid a fond smile and called goodbye to him. She looked at the table again, huffing in consternation.

Molly came further into the kitchen, pulling her wand out and pans situated themselves around. "I know that look, young lady. You need a good meal. It's not healthy to starve yourself while doing all that Quidditch training."

"I'm not starving." She sighed, but the lure of even a few bites to eat kept her in her seat.

Molly sniffed as eggs broke themselves on the counter and a slab of fatty bacon flew into a pan. "Taking care of yourself is key when you have a career and a marriage. It's best to get in the habit now before you have children, trust me."

"Thanks mum." Ginny knew the only way to stave off Molly's Patented Life Lessons was to agree.

A fire sprang up under the kettle, and within moments she passed a steaming cup of tea in front of Ginny. Not quite as good as tea steeped the Muggle way, but it was accepted gratefully. "You lot don't get enough sleep either. You might as well enjoy the rest now. Why, I was just telling Ronald this morning-"

Ginny nearly spewed out her tea. "You saw Ronald this morning?"

Molly blinked at her. "Well, yes."

"Mum, I just asked if you had seen Ron!" She had to remind herself strangling her mother was matricide and _considered_ wrong, no matter the provocation.

"You said lately, dear, and this was hours ago. I had gotten up to bring your father a fresh cup of coffee because he wanted to get up early, but I was delayed by his visit. By the time I went upstairs he had fallen asleep again, so I-"

"Mum, _about Ron_." While Ginny accepted and adored her parent's ongoing love affair, she didn't have time to hear about their morning slap and tickle.

"Oh, right. Ron came in through the Floo, clearly exhausted - which is why I commented on a lack of sleep to you - looking for Charlie's address. I told him the International Floo hours had changed, but nobody listens to their mother anymore, he wouldn't even stay for breakfast!"

It sounded like Ron went to go visit Charlie. Ginny drained her cup, mostly relieved that there was a good chance he had made an effort to take some time out for himself. Romania was a bit far, but what did she know about getting rejected at the altar?

She put the cup down and got up. "Thanks, but I really have to go." She put Ron on the backburner for now, and focused on the other 'errands' she had to run.

"But you haven't even had breakfast!" Molly shouted as Ginny grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

"Sorry!" She called before walking into the green flames, perfectly aware that she'd have to apologize later for not letting her mother do her favorite thing; fussing over her children.

Top of her list right now was Parvati Patil. She knew that that feather-brained former roommate was malicious, but not clever enough to whip up fervor in a political manner.

Willing, yes, but diabolical enough, no. That had the sticky malicious fingerprints of her secret co-conspirator. Ginny knew it was a Slytherin because she heard Parvati bragging about the Inter-House alliance while downing free drinks at a Ministry event.

First she had to stop at home to grab Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

Next place was the Daily Prophet, but it wouldn't be so easy as Flooing there. They had every visitor sign in, and she didn't want even a shred of proof that she was anywhere near the building today.

Though Ginny hadn't snuck into nearly as many places as her husband, even before becoming an Auror, she had picked up several tricks during her sixth year at Hogwarts. The cloak made it that much easier. The layout was strange and some of the witches moved a break-neck pace and made avoiding them difficult, but for the most she navigated through the halls with ease.

The offices had no rhyme or reason as far as she could tell, the Quidditch Correspondent was next to a Conference Room and the Weather Reporter was sandwiched next to the Household Spells writer and Marketing and Advertising supervisor.

Ginny did pause passing by the last door, momentarily curious to see Blaise Zabini charming the pointed hat off a witch inside. She was giggling and blushing as she passed him a parchment.

Ginny was sure Hermione had mentioned that he had been assisting with WAG and had been very nice lately. Interesting timing though, wasn't it? Blaise would be in a perfect position to cause trouble for both Hermione and Draco. Why would he though? But she didn't know him well enough to answer either way. Better safe than sorry.

Ginny snuck to the corner where nobody would bump into her, wand trained on the door. It was several minutes before he exited, still chatting with the witch who was giving him dopey hints about discussing something further later that evening.

He artfully sidestepped her invitation, but maintained a flattering tone as he thanked her for her diligence and willingness to give him priority.

Ginny rolled her eyes, carefully tipping the Cloak up just enough to send a spell his way. He never noticed the shine of a successfully placed Tracking Spell landing right above his arse. The small of the back was the least noticeable spot, at least the Carrows never noticed it. They had been idiots though, and Blaise wasn't that.

Resisting the urge to follow him right now, she continued on her way to find Parvati's office. Once she found it, she tested the spells over the door. Quickly disarming three flimsy charms, how overconfident of the gossipmonger.

The walls were literally covered with moving photos, several of which featured Ginny or Harry. Recognizing the shots from some of Parvati's most scathing articles, she resisted the urge to burn them and instead focused on the cluttered desk.

It took some careful moving to find a copy of a calendar book, and she quickly flipped through to the past week to see who she had met with recently. Unfortunately, the blasted witch scribbled names, notes, and thoughts in nearly every inch of space under each date. Some blinked and others were written so tiny Ginny nearly went cross-eyed.

Irritated, she pulled out her wand and made a duplicate. Charms had always been a strength of hers, but it wasn't as permanent as copying it to an empty parchment, which she hadn't thought to grab.

As she placed the calendar back where it belonged, the corner of a photograph slid out just enough for her to see. Using two fingers, she pulled it out further until she could see brown, mostly tamed, curls. The building was familiar.

Tugging it all the way out, Ginny nearly dropped the photo. It was Hermione and Draco walking out of the small white building _in Gretna Green._

She stuck her fingers where the photo came from, and carefully tilted the parchment back. The next picture barely moved except for the rain, Hermione had her arms around Ron with their forehead touching.

The sheer _privacy_ of the moment caught and sitting in the office of this scandal rag was sickening.

Oh, she was used to being followed by bored journalists, she had been "cheating" on Harry with her Harpies teammates for "years" now. Yes, she knew what it was like to have how-did-they-even-get-this moment staring at a newspaper or magazine.

But she was still shaken up. A tiny slip of paper was wedged between that picture and the next one. It had bold and neat writing, ' _Meet me at the Lonely Siren for more. 8'_ and she copied that as well.

Ginny tilted her head at the single number at the bottom. Wait, was that an eight, or a B? It was scrawled messily instead of neat block penmanship like the rest.

Her gaze slid toward the door. B for Blaise?

No time to dawdle, she had this calendar and a copy of the handwriting, and inserted the photos back in place. She loathed leaving them, but they clearly were a copy.

Time was of the essence. She hurried out after throwing the cloak over her, less careful this time with the thick book tucked under one arm. She did have one person to help who was neither involved nor an busy Auror; Lavender.

* * *

Blaise walked with Lavender until they reached her front door. It was a serviceable enough flat, but it just reminded him how her parents wanted nothing to do with her.

The Zabini family loosely held to neutrality during the war for plausible deniability reasons, but he'd be lying if he said he supported Dumbledore or the Order of the Phoenix at the time. Seventh year changed that, even if it hadn't all happened at once.

He had loathed what he was for a long time. It wasn't as if it had been a choice, and his being a werewolf being kept a secret was beneficial to his life but also kept him from ever experiencing prejudice.

He was a wealthy Pureblood after all, good looking and intelligent enough to answer any Professor's question with the smug assurance of just being _right_.

Blaise didn't like to dwell on exactly who he was before, because that's not who he was now. And he touched the hair that she made fall over her cheek and said, "I know you had a rough day. It will get better."

She smiled at him, and it was sweeter than he could have imagined if he were in the same situation. "I know it will."

He would be bitter and anger. He was, actually, both of those things on her behalf.

For a moment it looked as if she were going to lean forward and kiss his cheek, it was the most he could hope for, but then she simply smiled again and opened her door. As she closed it she wiggled her fingers at him in a shy wave, and he found he could, in fact, adore her even more. It made everything he was putting in place worth it.

* * *

"That was amazing."

"I told you it would be."

"Don't be an egotistical arse. Otherwise I won't do it again with you."

"After the way you screamed my name?" Draco smirked at her.

Hermione shoved his shoulder gently after setting the borrowed broom down next to his. She tried running her fingers through her pinned hair and seemed pleased to find it still intact. "I don't mind flying, it's just not fun for me. It's more to get somewhere, it's like a long car ride."

"Hmm. I've never ridden in an automobile."

Hermione giggled and walked next to him companionably as they made their way back to the house. "I'll drive you around sometime."

He paled a bit.

"You'll be screaming _my_ name then."

"I won't literally fly circles around you next time?"

"Too late." Hermione smiled though, her cheeks still were becomingly flushed from the wind.

Draco wasn't sure if he could think of a time he had ever been quite this happy. Even when he felt the emotion, it was mingled with another feeling. It was this moment that he understood why he had such trouble with the Patronus Charm his mother tied to teach him years back.

"Hermione, if you knew that one of your friends wasn't a full witch, would you care?" It was possibly the most blatantly insecure thing that had ever come out of his mouth, so he made his tone as careless as possible.

Her attention was immediately pulled from the lush green surroundings to him. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm a Muggleborn who champions the right of magical creatures. I adore Hagrid, a half-giant, _if you recall_ , and I have tea with a full Giant sometimes."

"A full-?" He shook his head. "Right, right. But if they hid it from you?"

A bossy sort of pout formed on her lips, one he was well-acquainted with. "Can you blame them? Especially if, no offense, they're friends with you. None of your lot's behavior exactly screams acceptance and open arms for anyone different." She looked him over with a piercing stare.

He waited for the question, hoping she would say it for him.

"It's Blaise, isn't it?" she asked sharply.

Draco blinked.

Hermione sighed as they reached the house, reaching out to touch his forearm, the scold replaced by compassion. "I've been sussing out werewolves since third year. I know. I just thought he should have the choice to bring me into his confidence. If he never does, I understand." She shrugged. "It's an honor he told you, it means he trusts you."

Draco had long since broken himself of the habit of fidgeting or other nervous gestures, but his hands felt restless. This was the perfect moment to bring it up. He would tell her all about the deal, and his search, and how his search brought him to her and made him see what he hadn't before.

It was all there. She wouldn't care. He trusted her.

"Don't tell Blaise I brought it up." was what left his mouth instead.

Hermione smiled, squeezing his forearm before dropping her hand. "Of course not. If you need any information on werewolves, I can lend you several books."

And the moment slid away.

Bugger.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well! Cuteness and mystery and suspicions and misunderstandings! That wraps up the end of Part 2. Look for the next chapter soon!

Thanks for leaving thoughts and comments, they always bring a smile to my face! Today is my "weekend", so I was able to finish the whole chapter FINALLY :D

Oh oh my birthday is in two days! Not really pertinent to the story XD but I wanted to share :D

* * *

My Notes:

Below is my more personal side notes I mentioned in the AN of Part 1!

As it turns out I (nearly) share my name with a little known British author from the turn of the century. Who wrote a story called...Gretna Green! Weird!

But that's not my good news, just a funny fact I found out about myself a few days ago.

My good news is that I finished the book! It's on Amazon Kindle! Anywho, if you have Kindle Unlimited or want to get it, I would be honored!

 _Chosen: Shifters of London_

 _by Hanna Maria Jones._

Gemma Sparrow is thrust into a world of Shifters when she discovers her family's darkest secrets. She has to find her cousin before the Hunters do, all the while digging deeper into the truth about herself. Torn between turning to the aggressive panther Ry or hunky wolf Kurt, both want to claim her, but can she trust either of them?


	19. Chapter 18

Ginny sat at the small table across from Lavender, cloak safely stashed away and book laid out on the table.

She had visited several times when Hermione was working out details for her then burgeoning program, W.A.G. Today Lavender had immediately invited her in once she updated her on the article about Hermione and Malfoy.

"Are you still friends with Parvati?" Ginny asked hopefully.

The other witch shook her head. "I'm afraid not. When she started her byline last year, I was very opposed to her spreading unsubstantiated rumours. I mean, she kept targeting people we fought with…and it's not good to do in general." She shrugged uncomfortably, pouring both of them a fresh cup of tea.

Ginny hadn't been too offended personally, though Harry and she were featured somewhat regularly. But she hadn't been friends with the older Gryffindor either. She flipped open the book, and they began the process of writing down pertinent information.

"She always protested that she never wrote outright lies, and people wanted to read about us. But it was never anything positive. Rumours can ruin a person's life."

Ginny looked up, surprised by the very bitter way Lavender spoke the last part. She almost asked, but merely continued copying. "It can. I wouldn't continue a friendship with a person doing that either."

They shared some oddities they found in the calendar, but most of the meetings seemed unrelated. Many of the names were initials, and that took a while to decipher.

"She keeps meeting TD every Thursday. Do we know any Slytherins with those initials?"

"Let me think. Like AC, it's quite common. It could be someone she met after Hogwarts." Ginny huffed. "Have you seen the initials BZ anywhere?"

Lavender looked up quickly. "What? Why?"

Ginny trailed a finger to the next week of last month, taking over the previous dates. "I know Zabini has been coming around more, so he might be the one supplying pictures. Hermione said he invited her out to that play. I was quite jealous, I read a review about how-what?"

Lavender looked upset. She shook her head quickly. "Blaise wouldn't be Parvati's source. He's been helping out with W.A.G."

"Oh. Hermione had mentioned several times he was the only Pureblood Malfoy recruited and that he sought her out other times. Well, it was just a thought. The Patils were _in_ with many of the other Purebloods, they run in the same circles. We've got plenty of suspects." Before the war, anyway. She tried to think if any of them had been especially chummy with Parvati once school started.

"But Blaise wouldn't do that." Lavender repeated, fingers curling around her cup tightly.

Ginny smiled quickly at her as she copied. "I believe you, I trust you. Let's see, I think the only Slytherin with these initials here was in second year when all this happened, he'd still be in school now. I'm assuming we're looking for an adult."

Lavender chewed on her nails, mind clearly somewhere else. "He did ask a lot about Hermione when we first began to collaborate. And he said how much he admired her."

A bit puzzled down, she set down her quill. She didn't need anymore convincing. "I'm sorry I implied that. I'm sure he likes her."

Instead of looking reassured, Lavender's mood dropped even more as she continued copying. With her free hand she threaded her hair self-consciously over her neck. "Right...right."

Ginny felt bad for the witch, the permanent marks still bothered her so. Bill didn't hide them, but sometimes wizards just weren't the same about looks. Plus, he thought it matched with his dragon earring. "What do you think about Tracey Davis?"

Lavender's face twisted up. "She pushed me off my broom and told everyone I liked to eat mud."

She stared.

"We were seven."

"Oh, I forgot you keep forgetting you grew up around them as well."

"Barely. My parents are friendly with many, but there were very few visits or parties that included children. I had to practically beg to attend tea with my mum at the Patil's."

Ginny supposed that was the one benefit she had while growing up. Molly certainly did not mind other children coming over and practically living with them during breaks and summers. She heard Bill and Charlie had to be stopped from inviting over the entire Quidditch teams during their school years.

"The charm is fading." Lavender tapped a short nail on the page it was open to.

Bits of writing and paper were slowly fading, and they hurried copied for the next minute until it was nothing but scraps that vanished as well.

"I think we have enough. I could cross-check with Herm-" Ginny smacked her forehead, forgetting she had a smear of ink on her palm. "I told her to Floo me, and that was hours ago now. Bloody hell, she must be so worried. I told her not to come into work because it was a madhouse there, truly, and then I forget to update her on the matter!"

Lavender seemed startled by the outburst, leaning back away from her.

Ginny could've kicked herself. She had forgotten that though Lavender poured her time and energy into W.A.G., she never went out otherwise. One supposed that also had to do with the vicious attack she lived through. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "Do you have your Floo set up?"

"No." Lavender said simply.

As Ginny tried to think about whether she would go directly to Hermione's flat or Floo first, she heard a muffled explosion from a back room. "Oh! What was that?" She already had her wand out, her other hand fisting the Cloak in a modified robe pocket.

The other witch pinkened a bit. "It's just the mail."

"The mail?"

"A Howler, by the sounds of it. I have the Owls drop packages in a special container out back."

"Why would-?"

"My mum still sends me them now and again."

 **Boom!**

Ginny glanced at the door leading to the back warily. "She keeps sending them?"

"I, well, that is…" Lavender cleared her throat. "I'm afraid last night did not come without its consequences for me."

As she told her tale of the reaction at the tea shop, Ginny scowled at the unfairness of it. "How in Merlin's pants could it have gotten out so fast? Did they Owl everybody in the community? I didn't see a word of it in _Witch Whispers_."

"Parvati won't report on me, but she's the only one." She went and searched through a pile of papers on the kitchen counter, bringing back that day's _Daily Prophet_. "Check page seven."

Ginny flipped through the pages, coming to a small article about the efforts of the organization. It was dry and factual, but not derogatory.

"We had that ready to run today, but the picture we sent was of a registered werewolf and his family, with permission."

The photo above the article now was just Lavender, taken the day Order of Merlin's were given to the survivors, and photo-Lavender kept trying to hide her face. It was the same photo the Prophet ran, next to pictures of the other notable heroes, over two years ago.

"They can't just make a blatantly false claim!"

"Technically the article doesn't. I am involved with the charity, and they could claim they lost the photo we sent and used this old one instead," Lavender reasoned calmly. "I thought that might be how it went, after what happened this morning."

Ginny's lips pursed. "It's not a coincidence it happened. I bet when we find Parvati's mystery partner, we'll find who switched out the photos. Why don't we pay Tracey Davis a visit? "

Lavender managed to not look entirely nervous. "Right behind you."

* * *

"Master has a Floo call!" Screechy popped in the sitting room suddenly, causing Hermione to nearly upset her tea. She had let herself be convinced by Draco to have lunch with him before leaving.

It had been such a nice morning, his parents' marriage squabbles aside, she was almost sorry to return to the hectic pace of life.

She was aware that the message about not coming into work would catch up with her when she went into the Ministry tomorrow. Not to mention that Parvati had undoubtedly posted up the picture of her and Draco in that gossip column she wrote.

This had simply been a brief respite before reality came crashing down.

Draco left with an apology and a half-eaten sandwich on his plate. The tea set had come with delicious sandwiches and crumbly biscuits, her favorite kind to dip in tea. Her mother abhorred the habit, but her father only winked at her as he also dunked his.

She did hope nobody was worried or was looking for her. The guilt itched under her skin as she thought about that.

Nobody would be able to find her.

She chewed on her bottom lip, and made her way slowly toward the Floo. Earlier Draco had shown her the fireplace when she tried Ginny, but of course Ginny hadn't answered because Hermione had called over an hour late.

As she approached, she could hear him talking. Of course she didn't want to eavesdrop. Her traitorous feet carried her closer and closer, but it wasn't to overhear. Much.

"-cannot stand that witch. I hope you're not dating her."

"I am doing well, thank you for asking." Draco had the rather put upon voice of someone repeating themselves several times over.

"Fine. But I'll take your silence on the matter to mean you're lowering yourself to help the 'Malfoy' name. But Draco, not _anything_ is worth it, especially a stuck-up witch like her. She's filth."

"As lovely as this Floo call is, I'm quite busy," he said blandly. "Do try and get some rest, Pansy, all your travelling is taking a toll."

A brief squawk of indignation was cut off, and Hermione rubbed her arms as she listened to the silence.

She was still standing there when Draco turned the corner, his expression switching from irritated to surprised, and then uneasy.

"Nosy Gryffindors." He used a light tone of voice, though his face remained troubled.

"I should get home. I had forgotten some of my friends might be looking for me." The words came out woodenly, as true as they were. She wasn't trying to sound stiff. That and she really had been coming to use his Floo.

He looked at her, silver eyes coursing over her face slowly. "Are you upset?"

Hermione softened, realizing he might think she'd blame him. That might be a bit short-sighted of her, wouldn't it? "That Pansy Parkinson thinks I'm not good enough? I think, somehow, life will go on."

He smiled, and she smiled. But both of them were quiet as he walked her to the Floo, and she picked up the green powder. Though they had kissed, twice, and had a lovely morning...she wasn't sure what they were. He had declared his want for a chance with her last night quite eloquently. So what did she feel such disquiet about?

"Owl me." Hermione she threw the powder in the fireplace and called her address, stepping through the green flames that sprang to life.

"I will."

Something still bothered her after she stepped into her dark flat, almost everything in place. Almost. The Chudley Cannons scarf Ron kept leaving on her couch was gone. His old pair of trainers next to the door were as well.

She didn't even want to go in the bedroom, where their items had loosely commingled over the past few months. Instead she sat on the sofa, lying back after a while. She had every intention of getting up and Flooing Ginny, or checking in with Harry what had been going on at work.

Undoubtedly there were reporters and journalists haunting the Ministry Atrium. The column most likely alleged she was cheating on Ron, and the first day of 'scandal' was always the worst. Tomorrow would be better. She threw her arm over her head to shut out the light, just for a second.

Hermione was sleeping so deeply she never heard the click of a beak as an Owl dropped a broad, M wax-sealed envelope with the other mail, sent from the Minister of Magic himself.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Glee!

Update alert and stuff! 3 Thank you for reviewing and enjoying the story; I'm so glad to share it with you. Another chapter sooooon!

I inferred the Patils must have known the Purebloods before school, as Pansy kept calling her by her first name (Parvati) when Pansy was mocking her for sticking up for Neville. And it was a Slytherin/Gryffindor class, so no chance of having two Patil's. Anywho, I believe they're both listed as Purebloods, even if they're not in the 'Royal 28' or whatever :D. If not, then they are considered such here!

THANK YOU for all your birthday wishes! I worked, but afterward I had a lovely dinner. My gifts were all your sweet, lovely felicitations and that was awesome!


	20. Chapter 19

Hermione shamelessly used her rarely-needed permission to place a Floo-call directly to the Minister's office. If he was in the middle of the private meeting, it simply wouldn't go through.

Today it did, and she glared at Kingsley as well as she could with her head in the fireplace and him behind his desk. "What do you mean, an investigation?!"

Kingsley looked up from paperwork, one eyebrow raising. "Hermione, lovely to see you."

"We'll see about that," she muttered, and said louder, "Can I come through?"

"Of course, I always have time for-"

She pulled back and stood up in her flat, intending to walk through instead of staggering to her feet in his office. She still had his personal note clutched in one hand, cheeks burning. Perhaps it was a bit of an overreaction, but she presumably had her personal business sniggered about in the Prophet and now this.

Hermione walked through the green flames and was inside the spacious office after a number of gut-churning twirls. Leaving a Floo was never entirely dignified, but she kept her chin up.

"-you." Kingsley finished, looking rather unperturbed by her prissy look.

It was something to be admired perhaps, but not right now. She was feeling positively outraged. "Why is _my_ suggestion of releasing the Malfoy's from their house arrest early called into question? Might I remind you, I'm not the Head of the MLE. He signed off on this, and so did _you._ "

Kingsley held up both hands, a shadow of a quirk to the corner of his mouth. "Nobody is persecuting you. The decision went through several levels before being approved. How do you know I didn't suggest a meeting to see how best to handle this?"

"Are you?" Hermione countered. At the almost unnoticeable flicker of his eyes away from her, she gasped and pointed at him. "You aren't!"

"Hermione," Kingsley said calmly, "I am not going to leave you on a limb by yourself. The onus of the issue, however, is going to fall on you because you drafted up the release. You know that's how the Ministry works. Why are you so upset?"

That level-headed question left her gaping for a moment. Then she stopped and blew out a breath. She sat heavily in a chair in front of his desk. "Parvati caught a picture of Malfoy and I standing together and took it completely out of context in that stupid article of hers. At least, that's what I'm assuming, I haven't gotten a chance to read it."

Kingsley nodded and reached in his desk. He held out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet to her.

She took the paper and flipped through to that thrice-damned column. She quickly read over the contents, cheeks burning by the time she finished. "Bugger! She's implying he _shagged_ his way to his parent's freedom?" That was beyond humiliating.

She thought it would simply focus on her being an adulterer perhaps, maybe even a foolish witch for seeing him. But to go so far to indirectly state she was corrupt and gave out preferential treatment to her side lover?

Hermione groaned and slapped the offending paper back on his desk. "What a public relations nightmare."

"Yes," he shrugged. "Nothing we haven't handled before. Now, _are_ you all right? I haven't seen you this upset since your first interview with a displaced house elf."

Sighing deeply, she rubbed her eyes. "I am sorry, Kingsley. Ron and I broke off our engagement."

He sighed as well, an expression of sympathy settling easily on his features. "That is very difficult. I wish I could offer you time off, but…"

"I know, it'll look as if the Ministry was punishing me and the collective press would go mad with hopes of a scandal."

Kingsley gave her another commiserating look, then briskly began to straighten his desk. "I'll delay the next step in the process as much as I can. In the meantime, prepare a comprehensive report on the decision, won't you?"

Yes, she knew exactly how to cover her bases by now. Her first six months in the Magical Creatures department comprised mostly of explaining her actions and reasons behind every single change she was trying to accomplish. It wasn't always successful either.

Hermione was quite confident than it would succeed this time. Mostly. In the meantime, she had to split her time between damage control at home and the Ministry now.

* * *

"This is quite shabby. And that's a lot, coming from me." Ginny stared at the delipidated two story house. The structure was quite plain, looking almost exactly like a kid's drawing of a house, rectangle body with a pointy roof.

The windows were cloudy though, as if they had a clumsily placed charm over them for privacy.

"She is a half-blood." Lavender shrugged.

The casual meaning behind that statement was understood by Ginny, the chances of her Pureblood parent being disowned for marrying beneath him was high. If she recalled her history correctly, it was Tracey's mum who married beneath her to a wizard with a Muggleborn mother.

"Let's go knock," Ginny said, busy thinking of a delicate way to go about this. It wasn't going to be disguised as a friendly visit, because Tracey Davis had never seemed particularly sympathetic toward blood traitors, regardless of her own lowered status.

Lavender trailed behind her by nearly a meter. "Did I mention that I bloodied her nose after she pushed me off my broom?"

Ginny looked upward with another sigh as she went ahead and knocked anyway. Honestly, neither of them would be welcome regardless.

She knocked again after a minute or two.

The door finally opened and Tracey was smiling brightly, until she focused on them.

The smile dropped so fast it might as well have been slapped off. "I'm all tapped out for charity donations," she said snidely.

"What, doesn't writing for _Witch Whispers_ pay well?" Ginny shot back. She couldn't help herself, her mind flew into snark routine far too easily.

Tracey opened her mouth, then one eyebrow lowered. "Wait, what?"

So much for subtlety. Nothing for it now. "Parvati has an unknown partner passing her information. You were at the Malfoy Manor party, and you've always seemed to be good at finding out secrets." Ginny tried to salvage it with some flattery.

Tracey seemed perfectly aware of the added in flattery, but it didn't mean she looked entirely disbelieving either. "I am good at it, but I certainly wouldn't be willing to work with Parvati Patil. Now, I am waiting on someone _important_." She went to slam the door.

"Wait!" Ginny stuck her foot in the doorway on reflex. Apparently Tracey should have been a Beater, because Ginny couldn't help the shriek as she went to one knee.

"Oh bugger fuck hell, why did you do that?!" Tracey opened the door again and looked around nervously.

Ginny didn't really have a response, she was busy cradling her foot and biting her lip piteously.

"Ahh…" The former Slytherin sighed and opened the door wider. "Here, come in and sit down. Merlin, Weasley."

Lavender quickly helped Ginny to her feet, letting her sling an arm over her shoulders and walking slowly to a slightly dusty couch.

"I'll go get a towel." Tracey sighed and left them to hurry up the stairs.

Ginny grabbed Lavender's sleeve as soon as they were alone. "Quick, take a look around!" she hissed. Then she grabbed a pillow and stuck it under her ankle with a wince. It really had hurt, like some bones cracked. She actually wasn't sure if she could take care of this herself.

To her credit, Lavender was a remarkably efficient snooper. She searched tables, drawers, bookcases, and still managed to get back over to 'fluff' the pillow under Ginny's foot.

Tracey came back down with a fluffy towel under one arm, wand in the other. "This always helps me." She shook out the towel and carefully wrapped it around Ginny's ankle. Then she cast a simple Ice Water charm against the fabric.

Ginny immediately felt the relief of a cold compress. "Thanks." She was impressed with the care the other witch handled the hurt limb.

"No problem," Tracey mumbled uncomfortably. "Look, I really am waiting to leave for the evening though. I'm not involved with that dumb column. It's good for a laugh, but that's it."

"I guess we could look for someone else who is never gossiped about." Ginny sighed, giving up. Maybe she was being naive or gullible, but Tracey seemed genuine enough. Or maybe she was that good of a liar, but it was impossible to know. Plus, she was becoming sure that had cracked bone. Next time she'd flick a shield at her foot and hope for the best.

"I'm actually quite boring." This time Tracey got on the other side of Lavender to help her up. "I think you'll find that quite a few of us don't have much of a life."

"You're going out, right?" Ginny said as more way of reassurance than argument.

"Right, but it's with my girlfriend. We've been together for a year with no fights or breakups. Like I said, boring."

"I know the feeling." Ginny smiled at her, and removed her arm as Tracey fetched the powder. "Thank you for letting me use your Floo."

"No problem," the dark haired witch shrugged. "Besides, now I know to bet against the Holyhead Harpies next game."

"If you have money to waste."

They smirked at each other as Tracey handed over the green powder.

Lavender angled herself so she could threw it and not drop Ginny flat on her face. "Thanks, Tracey."

One could see the unnerved way she had waited around. She didn't even seem afraid of Tracey, she was just a bit jumpy and quiet. Ginny wondered if she could convince her to perhaps speak with someone about it.

"Yeah yeah, just get your Gryffindor arses out of here." Tracey shooed them with the smirk lingering.

The trip was harder with two people at once, but they both arrived back at Grimmauld Place without much bumping or elbowing.

"I need to call the team Healer immediately." Ginny groaned and zoomed a couch to the fireplace so she could sit. Bloody hell, she should make the witch show up for Quidditch tryouts for the Harpies, she had the arm for it!

* * *

"Please? You're the most charming witch I know."

Isabella Zabini eyed her son. "I'm not going down to shops to convince them to be paid for their services. They should be honored to."

Blaise shook his head. "It's not a matter of if they'll do it, it's how much for. I've already spoken to the local restaurants that could on such short notice. The lesser known ones did it for less to drum up business, and the larger ones dropped their prices so the other ones didn't get a leg up. I've already lined up single witches and wizards for entertainment. I just need certain places to agree, and they do have male proprietors, so…"

"Just offer them what they're asking for," Isabella raised a hand in dismissal. "We are wealthy, you know."

"Woah, I'm not a Malfoy. I'm not going to throw galleons at an issue because we can."

Isabella pursed her full lips, eyes narrowing in thought. "Your grandmother was also thrifty, you must get that from her."

Blaise smiled, his mother always softened at the thought of the Old-World loving witch. "I couldn't do it without you." Not entirely true, but witches loved flattery.

As expected, Isabella rolled her eyes but her sigh was that of resignation. "All right, but I won't be attending your little shindig."

"I know, mum."

"You'll be careful as well?"

"Of course." Blaise agreed, even though her worries about 'peasants' and 'commoners' being dangerous weren't as pressing as she thought. Besides, recent events proved as long as he had his shy little blonde at his side, he could handle just about anything. If anything, she'd have a bigger problem with the crowd than him.

Blaise most certainly didn't mind being the center of attention, that just wasn't in his nature. He enjoyed convincing shops and people to be there tomorrow night, that was far easier than trying to consider what else he would have to do to make the event an success. "I'll just leave the list here. Thanks, mum." He left the parchment on the end table next to her, and kissed her cheek.

Isabella watched him fondly as he gave her a jaunty wave before he left.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Thanks for reading and reviewing! No real notes that I can think of, except to say I'm happy you guys are enjoying this and eagerly awaiting on certain questions to be answered!

Oh, just noticed we're almost at the three month marker since the first chapter was posted! Maybe I should pinpoint the hundredth day and do something special :)

Addendum: I JUST hit 400 Followers! I'm so flattered and grateful that this many people are sharing along in this with me. You guys rock!


	21. Chapter 20

Hermione lamented the fact she could once write for hours on end without needing to soak her hand in murtlap essence. This was no longer true, unfortunately, and this was the third time she balanced her wrist on the bowl and let her fingers submerge in the soothing goo.

She had taken it upon herself to write out accounts of the Malfoy's financial endeavors while a Copy-Quick Quill wrote out certain points from each of the Malfoy trials from over two years ago. She had to mark them, but she was a much faster reader than writer, and that was saying something.

Narcissa had contributed to more than just W.A.G. in the time between the sentencing and to now. Ulterior motive or not, she chose all the right organizations. War orphans, Muggleborn reparation, public property reconstruction. Most had her as an 'absent board member' in return for her galleons, but she was also in correspondence with most of the active members.

Lucius was also considered to be a contributor, though his folder of accomplishments otherwise was slim. However, since it came out of a Gringott's account they both had access to, one could consider that a point in his favor. Somehow.

Honestly, she had never thought she would be petitioning in Lucius Malfoy's favor. Sometimes she had wondered if it was right to end their house arrest early. The problem was, it really was the lightest sentence they could give other than probation on leaving the country. If they were such judged to be such a danger, why not have them in Azkaban?

Clearly this was simply a bid to appease the public. But Hermione did not shirk from any challenge, and she would leave them without a doubt that she could hold her own.

Not too far from the table she wrote on were several small invitation. Narcissa had arranged that tea with Sofia and invited her. The other was from Blaise, though if she hadn't received one she would have seen it in today's Daily Prophet splashed over the fourth page.

She had sent a gracious thank you and that she would be attending to both this morning, despite the continuing ache in her fingers.

Hermione had already spoken with Ginny yesterday and was updated on everything she knew. It was both a relief and painful that Ron had went to visit his brother. Irritating about the tales of the Ministry, but nothing she hadn't suspected since the meeting with Kingsley.

She had waved off Ginny's pursuit on finding out who else had helped write those unpleasant allegations. If it wasn't Rita Skeeter it was Parvati, if it wasn't Parvati, another intrepid gossiphound would follow them. Did their names or particularly vitriolic tongues matter?

Parvati had nothing on Skeeter, even with a secretive little sneak.

But Ginny had that glint in her eye, the one that said she'd find out who thought of last year's rumour that she made Harry Polyjuice into Gwenog Jones in bed. And the random snarky comment thrown in such as 'not a fan of riding brooms, much like Ginny Potter' or the classic 'Harpies Orgy weekend' when the team had gone to Switzerland for team building exercises.

Hermione sometimes wondered if it was actually someone on the Harpies team that angered the second writer so, Ginny was not the only team member mentioned regularly. Still, she had given her blessings to Ginny and Lavender to snoop to their heart's delight, but she had all this paperwork on top of her regular work to handle.

She wasn't sure how Lavender was involved, Ginny hadn't mentioned anything on that account.

Speaking of the Malfoys, she had not received one Owl from Draco. Should she expect one? They just saw each other yesterday. Unfortunately Hermione had never dated outside of school, at least someone she hadn't lived with while wrangling that shift from two people to one couple.

Should she Owl him instead? What was the protocol, was there one? Did he have one that was different from regular? All the questions made her rub her temple.

Hermione had assumed she would see him tonight either way, he wouldn't turn down Blaise's invitation. She'd invite him to go with her, but it was very public and Ginny had made a very good, worrisome point - Hermione regularly checked herself for tracking spells, but did Draco?

* * *

Blaise stood with hands on his hips, watching the witches and wizards settling up their stalls and carts. The vendors were busily setting up and merchandise followed them in boxes and crates, bumping the curious bystanders all over the place.

He had made sure to set up far enough from the Leaky Cauldron and all other busy locations that it wouldn't create a path blockage. Still, it was close enough that those shoppers could _see_ what was happening down the long main street and get curious.

"It's all coming together nicely." Luna had arrived early for some reason, and stopped to say hello.

Blaise gave her an askance look, mostly because she was wearing a modified version of her roaring lion head, except it was now a howling wolf head atop of hers. "Thank you."

"You're quite a good planner. I have a hard time remembering which correspondent isn't allowed in which country."

"Err, how do you get banned from a country?"

"It's very easy, unfortunately. For example, I'm not allowed back in Denmark." She spoke with such a matter-of-fact serenity as she watched the vendors.

Blaise coughed, wanting to ask desperately. He wasn't sure he should.

"It wasn't my fault. The Minister there had a Vittra following him around trying to make him have accidents.. I tried being helpful by yelling 'Look Out!' every time he sat or went to the loo, to appease the Vittra you know, but neither appreciated it."

Blaise sent a sideways glance her way again, taking in the life-sized wolf head and necklace made of dried beef. He hoped it was beef, anyway. "Is that smeared with Marmite?" He pointed at the meat.

"Oh yes, to keep away the Nargles away. They stole my earrings, so I had to use Marmite."

"Right... Well, I better go...do things." Blaise pointed to the extra hired people arriving, and quickly walked away.

Luna waved after him. "Good luck!"

* * *

Ginny sat at Lavender's kitchen table, peering intently at the table with a pair of Omnioculars held to her face.

She wasn't watching the table, she had rewound to yesterday and was gradually turning up the speed.

Lavender was just climbing out of the bath, she could hear. The other witch had taken some convincing to let Ginny help her prepare for the night, but she gave in eventually.

Ginny had plenty of practice on Hermione, but admittedly never thought she'd be convincing Lavender to participate in the time honored tradition of pampering one's self before an event.

The Omnioculars was another altered item that she had borrowed from Harry. Impervious to weather and wind, it would record wherever it was pointed at for nearly an entire day.

"Tell me why we're still watching Tracey Davis?" Lavender asked as she dried her hair with her wand, pouring herself a cup of tea. She hadn't changed yet, she was still wearing a bathing robe as she took a seat.

"Umm." Ginny still had the eyeholes pressed snugly to her face. "Hermione had mentioned yesterday that it wasn't personal, the whole team of Holyhead Harpies get written up a lot. I realized that was true, but also that one person in particular was mocked more often than not."

"Who?"

"Sadie Baldock. She's been on the reserve team since last year, and the more I thought about it the more I remembered about her."

"She's a Slytherin?"

"Well...yes, but not that. She was in my year, so." She smiled eagerly at Lavender, until the other girl smiled in fond exasperation.

"What did you remember then?"

"I'm glad you asked! _She used to date Tracey_!"

Lavender didn't seem quite as excited, though she clearly caught the implications. "You think Tracey was lying then?"

"She must be!" Ginny resumed staring into the lens. "Sadie's been ridden mercilessly in _Whispers_ on the regular, which is also a term they used to describe her role on the team. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before! That tricky bint, acting so confused at our questions."

Lavender finished drying her hair and went to fetch her brush.

"She hasn't left the house by the door once, she probably uses the Floo. I was hoping I could catch a visitor coming by though. I'd ask Percy to let me peek at the records, but he's such a stickler for the rules. I'd probably have to fill out ten applications and sign a confidentiality agreement-" Ginny looked around in startlement at being alone.

"I'm listening!"

"Wait, I said I would help!" She put down the bulky item and went to find her.

Lavender sat in front of a chipped vanity desk and delicate chair, smoothing down her hair with a brush.

"Why don't we wear it up tonight?" Ginny gently took the brush, running the soft bristles over Lavender's scalp and down to the tips of her hair.

"I don't know." She frowned at her reflection, the plain mirror only mimicking her actions.

Hermione used to say that Lavender and her mirror would chat for what felt like hours about getting ready for the day.

"People are going to stare anyway," she said gently, hoping it wouldn't be taken too badly. She continued to run the brush through the blonde hair, sliding it back from her forehead with the fingers of her free hand. "You might as well feel good about you."

Lavender's shoulders slumped. "I used to love this part of going out."

"You still can, it'll just take time."

"I'm ugly, Ginny. Time won't change that."

She found herself biting her lip, tears stinging at the bald statement. Lavender may have several scars on her lower face, but she wasn't ugly. If only the Gryffindor had had a Fleur around to admire the signs of her bravery! She squared her shoulders. "I hope you'll see how wrong you are in time," she said firmly.

Lavender looked up at Ginny's reflection in the mirror in surprise. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded slowly as something softer and plaintive touched her features. "Perhaps...I'll wear my hair up."

Ginny smiled as she reached for a gorgeous barrette with champagne pearls and ivory flowers. In time, in time.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Let's see, we had Hermione, Blaise and Ginny. Next up, Draco and Lavender for sure! That's the funny thing about side characters, they keep doing stuff and I keep following them cause it's so dang interesting to me :D The next chapter is going to be a behemoth, I think.

So yeah, 400 Followers! What! And almost 200 reviews, wow. I'm continually tickled pink that others are enjoying this. You fantastic lot make me happy.

BTW I forgot to cross-post a bit of my author's notes from Her Hunger, and shall do so below!

You know, I was reading and enjoying social media when I saw that a really popular author put down fanfiction super harshly. It kinda made me sad, you know? We adore their world. I know I'd be flattered by the love someone had for my work.

Anywho, I know it's silly but I wanted to say if anyone wants to use any random detail used in my fanfics, I think that would be dandy. While I would love a mention that they came from Erosandpsyche, it's not necessary AT ALL. But if you let me know about it, I'll mention your work, cause sharing is caring! :D

Here's an easy copy and paste for what I can remember offhand! (EDIT: Added in extra stuff at bottom, will add entire list to About Author soon)

Floating Carafe - in Diagon Alley. Menu items with bottomless carafes

Be-Easy Latte - with Calming Draught  
Perk-You-Up Coffee - with Pepper Up  
? coffee - Cheering Cordial

The Lonely Siren - a travelling inn at the end of Hogsmeade. It has rooms by the HOUR teehee, and warm Butterbeer.

The White Rabbit - random pub in Diagon Alley.

Alcohols - Pepperum, Silver Jinx tequila (ingredient in Unicorn's Blood)

The Performing Patronuses - actors/travelling troupe

Lord Strange - a saucy play that was banned at one point in the 1700's! Involves a witch placing a broom under her skirt (ahem) and the wizards cast spells from the hip, if you know what I mean XD


	22. Chapter 21

"Merlin's Bollocks, Blaise." Draco deadpanned as he looked around the 'fair'. "Here I thought Pansy was the most tacky Pureblood I'd ever met."

"You didn't like the bracelet she got you that said 'Mine'? I thought it was touching and classy." Blaise sniggered as they walked down the cobblestone streets, surrounded by the growing crowd of onlookers and shoppers.

Draco shook his head as they passed by a cart selling throws, blankets and scarves, the most prominently displayed one had a howling wolf surrounded by the moon. "How did you even pull this off?"

"Because I have something more than galleons, Draco." Blaise grinned at him, waving at one perky witch behind a stall.

"Ego?"

"Clever, cauldron to my kettle."

Draco rolled his eyes. He certainly was not egotistical, he was just born good-looking, wealthy, and intelligent. "Don't tell me this didn't cost galleons."

"I'm not saying that. Anyway, the proceeds go to W.A.G. I'm raising awareness for the cause." Blaise paused by a table full of children's masks, the dominant product being wolf masks.

Draco peered at the next one with jewelry clearly themed as moon and wolves and other animals. Bracelets, rings, and necklaces. He idly picked up a large white-gold ring with a familiar looking stone.

He frowned.

He checked the sides and squinted at the familiar runes. Now, he had placed the ring back in its box, but it was definitely made by the same hand with the same purpose.

"That is a fine piece, very rare." The proprietor smiled happily at him once she turned her attention away from the other browsers. "It enhances your natural charm. Not that you'd need such a thing, but a fine piece to add to an enchanted collection."

"Hmm." Draco set it back down in the original spot. He checked the small price attached to it and reached for the hidden pocket in his robes.

He rejoined Blaise several minutes later, finding him admiring earthenware that was frankly hideous. "Monstrous." He commented as he stepped next to him.

"I don't think it's so bad." Blaise tapped the middle which had a tawny wolf amid a field of wheat.

"I meant your face."

"Git."

"Pillock."

They walked further down, nearly to where the 'fair' met the regular bustle of foot traffic. "I don't know if this will help humanize the werewolf, no pun intended, but it might not be a terrible idea." He picked up one of the many pamphlets being set out tastefully at each small eatery and assortment of merchandise.

"Of course it's a wonderful idea. Those handwritten accounts and propaganda Lavender wrote are illuminating and thought-provoking." Blaise started to go on, but stopped with eyebrow raised.

Draco followed his gaze and saw the small crowd at the very end of the activity. While he recognized none of them, the expression on their angry, disapproving faces was familiar enough. "Ahh."

Still he approached them with Blaise, though he could hear them from here.

"You're supporting monsters!" One witch with short brown hair and a bright yellow scarf snapped at a passerby.

"Children murderers!" The older witch looked just as distraught as offended.

"Is there an issue here?" Blaise asked politely, taking a casual stance and overall looking pleasant.

"This so called Moon Festival is a celebration of vicious killers." Yellow Scarf crossed her arms, glaring just past them at the curious and open minded attendees. "Figurines and baubles won't erase what they've done or what they are."

"I see where the misunderstanding has happened." Blaise produced a small stack of the two different pamphlets Draco had noticed earlier. "The Werewolf Assistance Group actually provides resources for werewolves, their families, and those who lost loved ones to rogue werewolves." As he spoke he held out the pamphlets out to the group, two to each person.

Most of them took it with varying degrees of skepticism or anger, two refused to even touch them. Sad witch who yelled children murderers was the only one who opened hers and started to read.

A tall wizard with receding black hair who had taken the papers stepped next to Yellow Scarf. "How does that work? You can't ask the real victims to give money to those creatures. You shouldn't be asking anyone!" He ripped the pamphlets in half.

"The victims we help are anyone who's been affected by the actions of those criminal few. You can't marginalize a whole group for the actions of several." Blaise had a much more reasonable tone than Draco thought he could have managed. In fact, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

Instead of answering, the tall wizard had finished the job of destroying the the 'illuminating' propaganda and threw it in Blaise's face.

The wizard closed his eyes as the tiny pieces hit his face and reopened them as it all fluttered to the ground.

Yellow Scarf threw her whole ones down. "You can put it in nice clothes and parade it around, but it won't make it a decent person. Like a Death Eater, really." She cast Draco a scornful look, full of the malevolence he was well used to receiving. Several others threw them at the ground.

"If you change your mind, the community will welcome more people who can understand their grief." Blaise bent over to pick up the discarded intact pamphlets and handed them to Draco as he straightened and turned around.

Taking that as a cue, Draco walked away with him as he opened the folds. The first one was stories from victims. Before he could peruse any, a small voice interrupted their walk.

"Excuse me?" It was the squat witch who was actually looking at the handouts. Her eyes were red and puffy. "The people who are in this...will they be involved in this community?"

"If they choose to. Most likely, yes."

She looked down at the paper in her hands. "If Angela wants someone to talk to… I think I would like to speak with her and share."

Blaise went and began to give her ways to contact W.A.G. and record her information down. While he was winning over the witch Draco looked down at the stories again. He scanned for an 'Angela' and began to read.

 _My husband and son were attacked by werewolves out of country fifteen years ago. They found several bodies, but none were my son's. I was told that children are taken sometimes to be changed and raised outside of society. I took out time from my remaining family to travel and find help. The Aurors couldn't take the time or resources to spend more than a few months on the case. I exhausted my galleons and time, but it came to nothing. I don't know if he's alive, nor will I ever have the closure of knowing what truly happened._

 _I hope every day that he was not starving or beaten, both of which are conditions that a child turned werewolf may live under. Even though his siblings are grown and gone, I kept my big empty house because not a day doesn't go by that I don't look out my window and feel a jump of hope when I see a young man walking by my house. I now foster those Bitten that were abandoned by their parents, because in every frightened child's face, I see my Jakob staring back._

Draco looked at his friend who was comforting a woman who had came down to protest the event.

She was crying.

He wondered what her story was, but didn't ask when Blaise rejoined him while she wound through the crowd to leave. It was a crowd now, people were enjoying the sight of goods and smells of sizzling meat. The food stalls were doing a brisk business, and he could see why when they passed by one. The prices were certainly lower than he had ever seen them.

Butterbeer bottles clinked as a group of teenagers passed by, and kids were licking lemon ices happily.

He had to admit that it was a good idea. Every purchase was passed over with a pamphlet or two, witches and wizards were picking them up while walking by the tables. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I think this is where I let you off." Blaise said suddenly, causing Draco to look at him in confusion. Blaise pointed ahead, and through the throng of people there she was, looking at him.

"Right," Draco breathed. He ignored Blaise's chuckle as he walked forward alone, weaving through the people.

She looked beautiful. Her hair must still had hints of the essence of Windflower that was in the loo when she stayed the night because it wasn't as rumpled and flyaway as normal. Everything else seemed about right. Her pink lips were just a bit chapped and warm skin was untouched by anything but sun and air. Her blue robes were unusually fine and well-cut, nothing she'd get without tailoring or charms he never knew she used.

"Hello." The smile deepened as her eyes swept over him.

He had chosen a blue so dark it was almost a midnight hue, the cut not quite close enough to be utilitarian. It just escaped the impression of severity by the snug fit and color, but offset his hair and eyes nicely. He was always doomed to be the preener of any couple.

"Hermione," he drawled, holding out an arm.

People passed by them, around them, and yet there was nobody for him but her.

Her brown eyes slid away for a moment casually, and she turned her path a bit away. "I'm glad I saw you. Why don't we talk for a moment?"

A sliver of unease passed under his skin. Shouldn't she be waxing on about how great everything around them was? He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to stand alone with her.

They took a small side path through low slung buildings, a store paced distantly on each side. One was a pet accessory store, and a sudden image came up of them buying an animal together.

She turned with a toothy smile and smoothed her small palms over his chest. "You're looking very handsome."

"Thank you." He cocked an eyebrow, but that feeling surged back.

She drew in a deep breath and delicately wound her fingers just below the collar of his robes, tugging him down firmly.

Never one to say no to that, he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. He couldn't get enough of finally being able to kiss a witch and enjoy it…

It was awful.

Oh she was skilled, no doubt about that...the lack of tenderness, the wrong of it all filled his head until he pushed her away.

The look of startlement on her face was real enough, but as a Slytherin he recognized the barest hint of dismay at being caught out.

He was faster than her on the draw, having a wand pointed at her, or his, throat. "Whoever is out there, come out with your camera." He commanded sharply, scanning the area in darts. Didn't want to look away from her for too long. Whoever she was.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, but her sadness was too strong. Hermione wouldn't become a doe-eyed damsel if falsely accused. If it was her, he'd probably end up with her wand jammed into his throat regardless of his own aimed at her face.

"You're not Hermione." He sneered. "I enjoy kissing her."

"I'm a great kisser," she hissed, all veneer of innocence stripped away. "And there's no camera." Though she did look somewhat as if she regretted that now.

He had the feeling this was planned, but not for publicity sake.

He slipped the ring on his finger with his other hand, distracting her by raising the wand slightly. "That you are, that you are. But I don't like being kissed against my will, understand?"

Her soft lips, Hermione's lips, pursed poutily. "You wouldn't do it if I told you who I was."

Though he kept the partly amused smile, on the inside his skin crawled. He had never given a great deal of thought about non-consensual touching, except ruminating on the inherent nature of love potions, but between this and Mrs. Zabini… He understood some of the complaints from witches better now.

"Hmm. Why don't you give it a try? You seem like a witch willing to get what you want." He leaned over until he was a breath away from her mouth. "I like that." He dragged the words over his tongue torturously slow, watching the way her pupils swelled. Oh yes, she wanted him.

Her lips opened in a trembling gasp, just as a hard tip jabbed into his throat.

A red light flashed in his vision before everything went black.

* * *

Lavender resisted the urge to sweep her fingers through her hair to tug it by her face, but it would be a shame to undo all that hard work. She was utterly overdressed for a festival. Would Blaise see her and know it was all for him and find it laughable? Or repulsive?

Would he think, look at poor Lavender, trying so hard to look pretty? Shortly after the War she had spent a great deal of time using products to hide her scars, but found it only made it worse for her. She might as well be staring at that girl with SNEAK written on her forehead in pimples. What was her name?

Lavender had certainly looked at her straight in the face enough with a derogatory smirk enough times. Should she feel bad about it?

But then Ginny's words came back to her, about them being a sign of bravery. She had said it just before abandoning her to the fate of looking for Blaise alone several minutes ago. _Be brave_ , she said, _you've already proven you are._ And she had glanced at the scars and nudged her away like a momma bird removing the babies from the nest.

Was it silly that a self-proclaimed lioness would compare herself to a tiny bird that's never flown? There had been _so many people_ at Hogwarts during the Last Battle. Screams and spells and explosive sounds everywhere. The smell had been heavy with blood and the acrid stench of dark magic. To this day she hadn't forgotten that certain spells had that smell, the ones they didn't teach at school and just using them carried a weighty sentence.

Perhaps if she had never been caught unawares by that dirty mangy beast would she be reminded of the War every day that she accidentally caught her own reflection? Lavender had no idea, she had only spoken very briefly to other about their memories of the war.

The bright flash of pain that had followed his attack had been quickly followed by panic and struggling and the thought that this moment had finally come, the moment she would die. She knew it was Hermione that had saved her life.

That's why she had fought so hard to convince Hermione she could help with the project that the brilliant, hard-working witch had obviously been overwhelmed by. Between Hermione's switch to a new larger department and keeping up on her former department's projects, Lavender saw the struggle.

If Lavender had a choice, she probably would not have pursued a project that involved werewolves. While she was making her decision though, it had felt right. It had seemed like this was the path she was meant to take, and the further she delved into the realities...the more she realized someone was needed. She felt needed and productive and as if she were changing lives.

Still, she didn't feel very brave when it came to matters of the heart. Blaise was good-looking, there was no denying that. She'd go so far to say that he was rather heart-stopping, especially when he smiled that open genuine smile of his.

Now this festival was certainly interesting. She was a tad late, so the events were in full swing by the time she arrived. The Wizarding Wireless Network had two long tables where two witches chatted into a small box and interacted with listeners, offering up a prize of tickets for every person that gave a donation to W.A.G.

Witches and wizards were scrawling out their names and where to Owl them after clinking sickles and galleons in a shockingly large cauldron. She tried to see how full it was as she passed by, but couldn't get close enough.

It wasn't all about the money though, though that was helpful. The people walking by with their noses in the propaganda she created made her heart swell. They were taking in what she had created with the help of some of those she was trying to help, including Blaise. Nobody was openly scoffing or crumpling the brightly colored parchment and dashing around to find a bin.

She was so busy looking around that when she nearly ran into a hard chest. Eyes drawn upward, a bright smile broke out over her features at the sight of the wizard who had done all this.

"Blaise, this is wonderful," she breathed.

A proud smile lit up his face as he looked at her as if she was the only witch around. "I'm glad you think so. I know it's not going to change everything overnight, but it's a start."

Yes, this was a start. Lavender nodded happily. "Thank you. I mean, not that you did this for me, but it's amazing. I can't even think of enough adjectives to describe how much all your work means...for everyone." _To me._ But she didn't say it, her bravery was not so bold yet.

He seemed satisfied with her comments, gently placing his fingers at her lower back. "Can I show you something?"

"Yes," she nodded quickly. So far she had managed to ignore the strange looks she had been getting and the flashes of fear or disgust sent her way. It wasn't frequent technically, even though each one dug at her.

It was easier to ignore with him chatting to her about exactly what what being offered tonight, the merchandise, the food, and the continued progress.

Eventually they came to a large clearing where a circle had been etched. In the middle a witch and wizard danced to music, their moves were fast and sharp and practiced. The onlookers crowded the circle, breaking into applause after the next set ended.

"Earlier there was a puppet show for when there were more children. Do you remember Terry Boot?"

"Err, yes." Lavender felt her cheeks get rather pink.

"He helped write the play. It was ridiculous...but the children loved it, and it by far had the most friendly depiction of werewolves I've ever seen."

"I'm sorry I missed it," Lavender said sincerely.

"There's another show."

"You have to leave soon," she whispered, suddenly aware that the sun was getting lower and lower over the horizon.

He took her arm and brought her to the circle as the dancers had already done their bows. She didn't refuse to follow him, but nerves spread inside of her like fire. "What are you doing?"

Blaise paused and looked at her, his skin pinker than normal from the brilliantly streaked sunset that made everything softly red. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said immediately, without any hesitation. She trusted him to not hurt her.

Blaise nodded and brought them to the middle. The crowd looked humongous from the middle, many were faces that she did not know. Some she did, Harry and Ginny were three people back in the onlookers. The redhead smiled and waved at her.

Lavender smiled back before looking at Blaise next to her.

Blaise pointed his wand at his throat before speaking. "Thank you for coming to the first annual Moon Festival. Have you all been enjoying yourself?"

The crowd responded by cheering, some raising their bottles in a toast. They did have the look of people who were enjoying the festivities, the likes which hadn't been seen since the Beltane. Any public fair did tend to catch the attention of those who enjoyed a good diversion.

"Good!" Blaise was in his element, raising his hands and grinning and generally looking utterly comfortable in his own skin. The applause lit something within him clearly. "Are you ready for the next show?"

Lavender simply stood in the center of the circle, looking around with growing concern. Why was she in here? It made her uncomfortable. Luckily Ginny was another friendly face. She did wish that Hermione were here. Even Malfoy would be a welcome face. She was so busy looking around that she missed the next part, but the audience erupted in applause.

"Thank you," Blaise laughed, "that is also what we're doing here. Building memories, sharing old ones, and looking for a way to move forward. I know many of us wanted to do just that after the war."

Those watching had quieted somewhat, but it was a captive and intrigued sort of silence.

"I do not want us to forget, though, the price of pretending that there were no problems before those dark times. I don't want us to forget that there are those of us with scars that came before the war, scars that you may never see. And some that you can never unsee."

She could feel more glances coming her way. Heat prickled anxiously down her back and she licked her lips. Having no idea what was happening or going to, she didn't know if she should say anything. Give a spot of interpretative dance? Look sad or mad or angry?

Blaise continued while still walking around the space, drawing in the crowd with his voice and movements and just...him. "A new patent has been set forth by Damocles Belby. We know him, of course, he created the Wolfsbane potions. Now, thanks to tireless years of renovating and adjusting, it only takes one dose for the first day of the full moon to last the three days. This can change the life of many wizards who were bitten. This benefits fathers, mothers, siblings, someone's children."

He looked around at the quieter audience. "Everything about tonight has been fun and helpful, but as one wise person said, it's just about how much money we can toss at a problem, this is about ensuring that living amongst other people is safe for certain individuals."

Lavender was flattered by the comment, though she looked at the sunset again oddly. It was beautiful, but…

"Because a person can't feel safe when there is ignorance and fear surrounding their entire existence. It's exhausting and unnecessary for you to be afraid of werewolves, and them of you."

Several people in the audience broke out in chatter with each other.

"Every group has its criminal elements, especially from individual wizards. At some point, one must acknowledge that harming others is not not acceptable. They must acknowledge that the might have been wrong. Who here knows they've been wrong at some point?"

Blaise looked expectanently around as he waved one hand. "I have. I spent my whole life never taking a stand. Not even when I saw other people dying. I refused to stick my neck out for anyone else except my own. And I see how wrong that was."

Lavender didn't want to interrupt him, but she desperately did. He was so far gone that he had forgotten the time. He smiled at her but didn't seem to notice way her eyes begged him to come and talk with her. She didn't want to do anything obvious with this many eyes on her.

"We all have a responsibility to each other." Blaise was looking at her again, stepping toward her and taking her cool fingers in his own. "Lavender Brown is co-creator of this wonderful program, even though she was nearly killed by a murderer who was also a werewolf. She understood that a wizard makes his own choices and shouldn't be punished for another's mistakes. I'm lucky she's alive, because I wouldn't have realized it without her."

He raised her hand to his lips, eyes never leaving hers. "I want every Moon Festival to be where we come together to give to those who need it and accept that which we cannot change."

She hadn't even realized how dark it was because of the charmed lights around, but when she did she tried to tug her hand away.

Blaise mouthed to her _Trust me_ without releasing her fingers. A silver reflection showed in his eyes for a moment, and Lavender craned her head upward to see the moon in all its glory.

When his fingers released hers they weren't fingers anymore. Coarse fur broke out along his skin, the sound of ripping cloth nearly sending her to her knees in fright. She knew _him_ , but the fear choking her knew nothing but sudden blinding ferocity. The heat and the darkness and the _agony_ of that night flooded back as she watched him transform.

Greyback had not been a true creature then, though a beast yes always a beast, but her nightmares had happily supplied his wolf form to her mind many many times. It took everything to not scream.

But others were screaming. Short or loud or squeals, the air was filled with excitement and fear.

Blaise, who had fur as black as night, simply stood there on his (hind?)legs, panting and looking at her. His eyes were still his.

The calm settling inside of her was broken abruptly when a spell flew past her head and just nearly missed Blaise. Hit someone on the other side of the circle judging by the sounds of it.

"NO, Blaise!" Lavender shrieked, throwing herself into his arms. Fur and heat was underneath her cheek and it tickled her neck. "He's harmless, he's harmless." She babbled, clutching him with both arms and fearing a hex or worse would fly out and hit her in the back or him. She tilted her head just enough back to look at him with his smaller eyes, flattened skull, and long snout.

"You're so brave," she whispered, stroking his face with one hand. Nothing hit her in the back, and when she turned her head she saw that while smaller, the crowd had not entirely dissipated either. Some had the same awe on their face as she felt right now.

Relief flooded through Lavender and she placed her arms more fully around his chest.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I shall go ahead and say a few words; flimble, pluft, and rekt. XD Please read and review if you so choose, and hope your Saturday night is going excellently! Happy Mother's Day to all you amazing ladies who give up things like sleep and sanity to take care of little or big ones!


	23. Chapter 22

Hermione kept her wand against her side firmly, just in case anyone decided to throw a hex or worse at the couple in the middle of the circle.

She had missed half the...show? At least half of Blaise's speech as she was in the back of the crowd, keeping a trained eye on everyone. Even now she could hear the bursts of stunned conversation, the fear and excitement thrumming as like electricity.

Honestly, she was disappointed she hadn't found Draco yet. He couldn't have skipped the event, so she supposed he was simply keeping out of the crowds until this point. However, the audience had thinned somewhat and she still didn't see him.

Those still around were more tightly packed, undoubtedly never having seen a werewolf in their life. Very few had, even those who had relatives or loved ones afflicted. She had to admit, seeing the slim scarred witch embrace his safely had stopped many of the wand-hands she had seen ready. But not all were released.

A wolf's howl suddenly pierced the air and wands lifted.

"Blaise!" The call wasn't her own, and Hermione pushed through the again tense crowd to see who spoke, and as it turned out, where the howl came from. She snorted at the sight of Luna.

Luna peaceably walked into the circle with a realistic wolf head hat, waving at Lavender and looking over the werewolf. "He's perfectly safe. A werewolf's howl scares away most magical creatures you know."

"Because they don't want to die!" One person yelled, and Hermione turned, checking for the owner of the voice.

Luna frowned and made a motion to Blaise. "He's perfectly safe, obviously. Watch how careful he is." She jiggled what appeared to be...a meat necklace that was around her neck with an expectant smile.

Hermione tilted her head as Blaise shuffled forward, seeming very hesitant before leaning forward and pushing his snout centimeters from Luna's neck. The crowd seemed to draw in a collective breath, more than one witch closing her eyes with her hands.

Removing a hunk of meat with flawless precision, Blaise took a step back and choked down the meat. He really did seem to be having difficulty swallowing, which was strange. But once it was finished he reached out one humongous paw and touched Luna's arm before crouching and making his way back to Lavender.

There was some scattered applause as if it were part of a show, but one supposed it all had to start somewhere, right? Hermione _was_ very impressed with the entire set-up of the fair. The market stalls were passing out pamphlets like candy, and Hermione had picked both up to read through it. She had seen the earlier drafts and collection of stories, and she had been just as impressed then as now.

"Hermione!" Ginny sidled up with Harry in tow, smiling at her. "Do you think we should go out there too? I don't want to cause any more excitement for some of these people." Her voice dropped in an undertone at the last part, casting a dubious look around.

"I think he could use all the support he can get." Besides that, this was going on the front page of the news and it would be nice to be featured for a reason that she agreed with.

Lavender, who was sweetly dressed and actually had her hair swept up, seemed happy for the distraction from Blaise. Though Hermione couldn't read his expression the way she did when he was human, she'd swear he looked as nauseous as a furred face could look.

While Ginny and Harry both strode up to Blaise to give him the same verbal greeting as they had Lavender, without the hug from Ginny, Hermione focused on her scarred friend. "All right?" she asked quietly.

Lavender nodded, her eyes sliding to all the people staring. "All right." She cleared her throat and smiled. "Isn't he amazing?" Her attention went back to Blaise.

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly, watching her friend's face. Did she even realize how far she had fallen?

Blaise approached her, much taller than he was in human form.

Hermione had not approached him for a reason, and she felt foolish for it. Remus would have never attacked her had he been in his right mind, she knew that. It was the very act of robbing one's humanity that made being a werewolf such an deadly affliction and made them into more of a victim than a monster. The ones who hurts others on purpose made the choice to be vicious and soulless, not one who didn't. Remus was proof of that.

She managed the smile and took the last step forward to place her hand on the bony joint that she was fairly sure was his elbow. It felt strange to call it his foreleg.

He checked around her, giving her an inquisitive look. It wasn't hard to figure that out.

"Where's Draco?"

Blaise nodded.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him all evening."

Blaise stared at her, his expression impossible to discern. Finally he crouched down, sniffing around her collar.

"Err." She raised a hand as if to pat his head, but it fell. He wasn't an animal, and it would behoove her to remember that. "What's going on?"

Blaise straightened and moved toward Harry, poking at his chest in one particular spot.

Harry looked at his chest, Blaise, and back down. "I'm not an Auror right now."

Hermione creased her brow in confusion for a long moment as Blaise poked his chest again. "Did you see Draco earlier?"

He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her, nodding.

"And...and we need Auror Potter, do we?" Her voice lowered, as if not saying it loudly might change the answer she dreaded.

Blaise nodded, and shook his head a bit in frustration. A lack of being able to communicate with speech would drive her nuts, she could understand that. Lavender reached out to touch his back, frowning at Hermione. "Draco's not with you?"

"No...he wouldn't just leave like this." Actually he would, to be fair, if he had a good enough reason. "Harry, why don't you get the paperwork going while I see if he's home?" He would leave for an emergency.

"Right." Harry confirmed it with Blaise and then turned to go.

Lavender smiled and stepped closer to Blaise. "I suppose you lined up a person to take care of the fair after you...after dark?"

Blaise nodded again, stooping down to nuzzle her cheek. She looked pleased and embarrassed, pinkening quickly. "I can Apparate you to your home after we leave, all right?"

He nodded and Hermione made her way to out of the crowd as well. Most cast her curious looks, but were riveted by the sight of the werewolf. As she left, people were beginning to break the invisible circle and approach, and she could hear Luna and Lavender greeting them and answering questions.

* * *

Lavender felt rather guilty as she left Blaise's house in the middle of the night. Of course she had promised to take care of his transport, and she felt like she had really made a difference tonight. Blaise started it, and she was his, and W.A.G.'s, mouthpiece with the public.

It was also a decent possibility that it would counteract the rumour that she was a werewolf, which was shamefully a relief. In her defense, it was easier to be other's champion than her own.

But most of her guilt stemmed from the flash of fear in the other witch's eyes when Hermione discerned Draco was missing and not just avoiding the crowd. She felt like she should be out helping.

There was a chance Draco had been called away and Hermione and he had already united, she supposed, she hadn't heard any news yet.

She thought uneasily of who might have taken Draco. He didn't exactly have any end to enemies or people that resented him, from both sides of the war. And Ginny had been so sure that Parvati's secret co-writer had a Tracking spell on him…

Her head raised abruptly, still standing in the chilly night air a dozen meters away from the huge house behind her.

A _Tracking spell!_

She hurried down to the Apparition point and turned sharply.

Parvati had bought a house after Lavender left their shared flat. She must be doing well for herself, Lavender thought as she gazed up at the three-story abode.

Shaking her head, Lavender moved up to the door and knocked loudly. She could hear the sound echoing before fading entirely. The door creaked open and a tiny, floppy-eared house elf peeked out with big brown eyes.

"Miss Lavender?" she asked in surprise.

"Hello, Bitty." Lavender smiled, crouching down. "I'm sorry to come so late, but this is an emergency and I need Parvati's help." She did speak solemnly, because she was quite sure that Bitty's instructions were to send away people at the door even during daytime hours.

"Miss Lavender never has to say sorry!" Bitty exclaimed in indignation and opened the door further. "Bitty has missed you, please take a seat while I fetch Miss Parvati."

Lavender followed Bitty and took a seat at a small table tucked away in the sitting room. A cup of hot cocoa and a plate of her favorite ginger biscuits appeared. "Thank you."

The house elf had already disappeared with a snap.

Lavender looked around the large room. It looked almost the same, except the photographs of Parvati posing next to the famous and powerful had quadrupled. Plus she had even more decorations to show off, each undoubtedly from different parts of the world.

She heard the shuffle of tired feet before Parvati appeared in the door. She was wearing a silky kimono robe, her dark hair in a mostly neat plait, and she looked sleepily surprised to see Lavender.

"What is my favorite scent?" she asked warily, reaching to touch the material at her hip where a wand was probably hastily tucked.

Lavender was taken back, but she did answer. "It depends, really. You prefer a floral top base when you're with your parents, like Violet Valley, and you don't wear any at all if your sister is about because she'll sneeze a lot. If you meet a new bloke, you wear Star of Eros. You don't wear any when we hang about because I gained a sensitivity to scents after the war."

The other witch approached the table and took a careless seat with the robe billowing about her legs. She neatly crossed her legs and propped a hand on her knee, an elegant pose that Lavender knew Parvati had practiced. Parvati raised both eyebrows curiously. "It is you. I thought you weren't speaking to me anymore."

"I need your help."

"Oh?" She immediately looked curious, her fingers curling.

"This is off the record." Lavender followed up with immediately.

Parvati winced, fingers uncurling again. "Lavender.."

"Off. The. Record." She spoke with more force, looking straight into her former friend's eyes.

"I've never written about you."

"This isn't about me."

"No? Isn't it your werewolf boyfriend?" She sounded honestly as if she had assumed that. "That was quite a show, by the way. I won't write about your part, but the whole story will be all over the front page tomorrow whether I like it or not. I don't have that sort of clout to stop others."

"I assume that was mostly Blaise's point. Please don't call him my werewolf boyfriend."

"Oh, I just thought you two were dating."

"We are, but he has a name." That was a lie, but she didn't like the marginalizing of a group she specifically worked to prevent that sort of thinking. It would've been less irritating to hear him called her Slytherin boyfriend, honestly.

"Zabini then. What did you need my help with then?" Parvati didn't seem like she was planning on saying no, that was something.

"I need to speak with your partner." She took a sip of the hot cocoa, which had just a hint of ginger. Bitty remembered how she liked it, that was sweet.

Parvati definitely looked uncomfortable. "I can help you."

"Good. Who is she?"

"I mean, surely we don't need them." Parvati smiled, an uneasy smile pushing her lips up strangely. "Whatever she can do, I can do."

Lavender was not surprised that the mystery partner was a female. "How bad must it be that you won't tell even me? I don't care that she's a Slytherin. I didn't come here because she switched out the photos and I had to deal with the harassment. I came here because someone's in trouble."

"Who's in trouble?"

"Who's your partner?" Lavender countered. They stared at each other, not angrily, but with the divide of a broken friendship. Lavender couldn't trust Parvati the way she was now, and Parvati was hiding a name, just a name. Why?

"This was a mistake." Lavender stood up, grabbing a handful of ginger biscuits and walking toward the doorway.

"It's her secret!" Parvati stood up as well, mouth twisting a bit.

Fine, Parvat didn't understand the serious nature of this. Lavender could accept that, sort of. But this brought up so many bad feelings, arguments, pleading. She turned and snorted. "Given your line of work, Parvati, that is the most ironic statement you've ever made in your life." She hurried out, angry at herself just as mad as she was at Parvati. Maybe had she stayed...no, Parvati didn't want to lose her sneaky secret partner and all the juicy gossip that came with it.

It's not as if anyone was going to tell the writer of _Witch Whispers_ deep secrets, at least not their own. The last scandal writer had been anonymous, but Parvati had wanted the infamy and admiration more than she wanted to have people feel comfortable confiding in her.

A partnership made perfect sense in that way. One to be the face, the other to be the ears. Lavender rubbed her forehead once she was outside, still standing on the porch.

A crack made her nearly jump out of her skin.

Lavender whirled around to see Bitty standing there, spindly fingers twisted. "I know the witch that writes with Miss Parvati," she whispered, floppy ears folding over nervously.

"Oh Bitty," Lavender sighed. "I know you can't tell family secrets."

Bitty stood up straighter, ears ears perking. "No," she said firmly, "I cannot tell _Miss Parvati's_ secret. It is not _her_ secret, is it?"

Bitty was always such a shrewd person, Lavender mused as she kneeled in front of the house elf and smiled. "You're right."

Bitty leaned forward, settling her dry fingers on Lavender's shoulder and whispering to her for several seconds.

Lavender's eyes opened wide, at first with confusion, then with understanding.

* * *

Hermione stared at the spot where the Patronus disappeared, tilting her head to the side with a puzzled air. A very clever idea on Lavender's part, and it was the only lead they had. Draco did fall under the 'ticked off an innumerable amount of people' category. It was much like if Harry ever went missing, there were a whole lot of options.

Speaking of which, Harry was still in deep conversation with the two Aurors on night office duty. She stopped before interrupting, and scrawled a note rapidly on a piece of paper and sent it off with a flick of her wand to settle under his fingers.

She didn't have the same job duties as an Auror, but her authority was the same, and she didn't fear Nott. She did, however, send a message to Ginny before she checked the address on the way to the Floo.

The MLE Floo didn't override every security measure, but it was enough to make a Firecall straight to the Nott residence.

A shabby house elf answered the call and went to get him on the authority of the Ministry. Hermione hated to wait in the fireplace with nothing but her robes cushioning her knees. She had meant to cast a charm to prevent that, but forgot in the heat of the moment.

Theodore Nott walked into the room while tying a dark blue sash around a matching robe. His pajama trousers were grey. "Granger?" he asked as he took a heavy seat in the sofa chair.

"Is your wife home?" Hermione blinked, due to his surprised, but not disdainful, tone. "I'm sorry to Floo so late."

"You woke me up just to ask if my wife is here?"

"Is she?"

Not compressed his mouth and pushed his fingers through his dark hair. "Is she in trouble?"

"No, we're contacting her to help us prevent trouble. Has she ever mentioned Draco Malfoy?"

Nott chuckled. "You're casting the wrong charm, love."

"Are you aware that she works with Parvati on _Witch Whispers_?"

Nott raised an eyebrow, his smile becoming more pronounced. "My wife? She's not well-connected, nor does she attend much in the way of all the events that rubbish column covers."

"I have it on the best authority." Hermione was mostly sure of his. Lavender's message hadn't any specifics, but she was better off putting her faith in a friend than an at best acquaintance. "Can I speak with her now?"

That same flat line settled on his mouth. "If you see her, I daresay you can."

"Isn't she here?" Now she was getting impatient.

"No, Granger, she's not." His voice matched his expression now, flat and cross.

"Where is she then?" she pressed.

He was silent, his mouth finally twisting with dislike. He sucked in a breath, looking over her features as if attempting to detect a how much he was going to say.

His shoulders loosened abruptly. "At her lover's. Go wake them instead next time." He stood up stiffly, straightening his collar.

"Who's her lover, Nott?"

He cast her a look before turning to walk out. "Tracey Davis." He called over his shoulder.

Hermione pulled out after he left, frowning. The answer for how everything was connected eluded her, but a lead was a lead and she didn't have to understand the intricacies of it to follow it.

Sending off a message, she stood up and rubbed her knees. Once she straightened, Harry was standing there with her note in hand. "I'll go with you."

"No, you stay. I'll let you know if I need assistance." Not of a physical variety, she wasn't afraid of being attacked. If either witch took it in their head not to answer questions, she was going to need to call it in as Obstruction. A difficult case to argue and a time waster to boot, but hopefully it wouldn't go that far.

Besides, Tracey was in their year and might not open up with the likes of Harry Potter around. Not that being a Muggleborn gave her a leg up, but she was going to try her best for Draco's sake.

* * *

Draco opened his eyes, immediately furious.

He wasn't entirely sure if he was angry with himself or-no, actually he was only blaming one person here, and that was the mad witch that Stunned him.

Assuming it was a witch.

The room was nearly empty save for a bed and water basin. It wasn't a small room, and the rug had indents at various spots to indicate someone had recently moved furniture out. An armoire, he guessed, given its placement by the wall, as well as a small desk of some sort. Vanity?

The mattress and rug were handmade and certainly not cheap, whoever had him didn't lack for wealth. Faint outlines on the walls told him the paintings or portraits were also removed.

He checked his pockets and sleeve; he had no wand or ring. The former left him feeling curiously vulnerable and paranoid as he walked the floor. Of course the doors were locked, and wandless spells didn't unlock them. He hadn't the practice at casting complicated spells without his wand.

Draco sat on the bed, suddenly noting there were no windows. That meant all the shouting and pounding on the ceiling, doors, and walls would undoubtedly be for naught.

He tried anyway. After some time he returned to the bed and fell back, throat burning, and eyes too.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Oh, update update update! *bounces around*

I had such a tough week, it feels good to be sitting down again and finishing up the chapter. When I was having trouble writing anything at all I started a one-shot.

And can I say, mad love toward anyone who's ever written a one-shot! I thought finishing a book was difficult! I'll finish it up after catching up proper on my fics and will post it.

Oh, and to my fantastic repeat reviewers, one time, and none time, thanks so much for reading! ^.^.^.^.^.^.^

HMJ


	24. Chapter 23

Draco laid there for a long time. It wouldn't have surprised him that many of the names and guesses he had as to who it was were shared by the ones looking for him. Lucius and he were the only marked Death Eaters that had escaped Azkaban, but the Dark Lord had many sympathizers and supporters.

Sympathizers had such a gentle ring to it. As if the cause needed sympathy.

While he had loathed the treatment his family received, it hadn't killed the ideals he grew up with. The Dark Lord didn't embody those beliefs, he had merely believed them as well.

There were other reasons in life that he stopped clutching so hard to all those principles and truths. His affection for Granger softened them, but that wasn't enough for her. He had figured that out a while ago.

She'd never be content with someone who placed her as 'the only good Muggleborn' while the rest were terrible and inferior. He hadn't tried very hard though. He didn't tell her any of his thoughts, or invite her out to a wizarding or Muggle restaurant. Draco thought he'd have been willing to go out into the Muggle world if she were there, teasing him about what he didn't know and how fascinated he was with what she did.

Granger loved talking, it'd be the best date she ever had.

He chuckled hopelessly, the ceiling blurring in and out depending on which direction his thoughts went in. If only he hadn't wasted so much time. One single day at the Manor was all he had given, and that's all he got.

He rubbed his face with both hands and sat up, moving off the bed to walk the perimeter again. How many steps it was, checking the bits of furniture there was by sight and by running his fingers along the seams and hidden parts.

Unfortunately nobody had done anything useful such as, say, place a wand within reach. He couldn't even find anything small and sharp to conceal in his robes.

He leaned his forehead against the wooden side with a thump.

* * *

Ginny and Hermione stared at the door with its chipped paint.

"It's not quite what I imagined." Hermione confessed, looking up at the pity-inspiring house.

"Half-blood." Ginny shrugged with a rueful look. "Funny how many of them end up in Slytherin with the need to prove themselves. Not a big surprise when you look at it from this end."

Hermione inclined her head in agreement then knocked firmly on the door. She had her MLE badge pinned in the front of her robes just as a reminder that withholding information from an official wasn't the same as a former classmate.

It took several minutes before Tracey opened the door, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing simple pajamas and looked at them with still puffy eyes. "What?" She squinted at Ginny, then noticed the badge. "...what?" she said in a different tone of voice, taken back.

"Tracey, we're looking for a certain witch, and we were told she'd be here." Hermione thought it best to get that out of the way. She still tried to be somewhat delicate though.

Tracey stared at them both inscrutably for a moment. She did, however, end up taking a step back and allowing them inside. As she closed the door behind them she asked tiredly, "And this couldn't have waited?"

"I'm afraid not. She may have information on a kidnapping. We need to talk to her immediately."

The other witch snorted. "Information as in help, or information as if she's the kidnapper?"

Hermione frowned, holding up a hand as Ginny opened her mouth. "She may be able to help, that's all." She hadn't thought Tracey would be offended. Worried perhaps about her girlfriend, annoyed at being woken up so early, but..

"Oh good. You know how it is when any crime is committed," Tracey said cynically as she turned around and walked to a sofa with an old-fashioned crisscross pattern. "The first person they look at are the family of Death Eaters."

Hermione stopped, thinking. She didn't attend all the trials, but couldn't remember a Davis.

"My mother, actually." Tracey eyed her furrowed expression and lifted one shoulder negligently. "Seems stupid to accuse a witch who married a half-blood of being a Death Eater, but not nearly as terrible as sentencing her to Azkaban after her husband had his soul sucked during the Muggleborn Registry. Or is it just me?"

She didn't sound angry, but rather bitter and resigned. It was worse than had she screamed at them or cried.

"We're just hoping she can help us," Hermione said uneasily. There has been a great many injustices to many families during the war. That's why she worked so hard to rise up to Head of the MLE, to work against all the damage the Ministry did nearly three years ago.

Tracey shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry, she's not here. Sometimes she stays home to soothe Nott's ego. _Neither_ of them understand why she keeps crawling back to an witch of inferior bloodlines."

A feeling of dread pooled in her stomach. She couldn't put her finger on why, but suddenly she has a feeling she was on the right track in more than one way. "I was just there, Nott said he hadn't seen her either."

Tracey didn't seem troubled. "Sometimes when he's been in a temper she hides from both of us."

"Why would she hide from you?"

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "Because she's waiting for her bruises to heal."

Hermione didn't have anything to say to that. Everything about this situation was tragic, wasn't it? Really. But why would a married witch with a half-blood lover focus on Draco?

"Where does she hide?" Ginny asked quietly from behind, her face set in solemn lines. "Does she need help? We can help her."

Tracey snorted and muttered something about sentimental Gryffindors. She sighed and said louder, "It's her choice. I've offered to let her stay with me. It's in the basement of her family home. Only she knows about it, her family has no idea she comes or goes. I'll write down the instructions… if."

"If?"

"The next time you come over here, you better have a warrant signed by the Chief Warlock himself. No more favors." She snorted as she does her quill. "I hope she can help you, because Draco infuriated many people by using his freedom to date a Muggleborn."

Of course.

Hermione wisely only nodded as Tracey pulled out a half parchment of paper and began to write. As the other witch did so, Hermione leaned over to say quietly to Ginny, "Have Harry bring everyone possible to the Greengrass' house."

* * *

Some time passed before a light knock broke into his thoughts.

He looked at the door, swallowing before sending, "Kind of pointless, isn't that?"

"Maybe, but it's best to be polite."

Now that was a familiar voice.

"Stand by the bed and bag on the headboard please. I want to be sure you're not going to try anything foolish."

Angry and bitter, he leaned back on the bed until he could bang twice on the board. He did it louder when the door didn't open.

That time the door creaked open slowly, a snug robe of bright pink the first thing he saw. And the next, her face, made him start in shock and fear. "Are you bloody serious? What is wrong with you, Lavender?"

She giggled, a grating sound he hadn't heard since their Hogwarts days. "Oh Draco." Her blue eyes were lit up with joy and adoration as she held up a small blue vial. "I brought you a drink. You must be so thirsty."

His heart still thumping erratically, he slowly slid off the side of the bed. "I am. Why don't you bring it to me?"

She laughed again, followed with a happy sigh. "So clever. Not clever enough though. You really think that scarred hermit Blood Traitor is chasing two Purebloods? One is bad enough. Salazar, she's so pathetic." She gently jiggled the vial in her fingers. "You should have seen your face."

"What is that, poison?" Draco felt somewhat embarrassed, but he wasn't about to show her that. This wasn't exactly a normal situation here to be on top of his game.

"No," Whoever-She-Was smiled softly, "it's to get rid of the poison in your heart. I know it's not your fault. I don't want you living the same guilty miserable existence I have been for the past year."

She flick and swished her wand, the potion raising and slowly floating toward him. Her eyes were so bright. "Just drink, and we'll finally be free."

Draco took a step back, but he didn't have much room. "No."

"It's not poison, _love_."

He paused, noting the pointed way she drew out the last word. Then he felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling a bit sick. "You can't...it won't work. My family made a blood oath, you can't just become my Mate through a love potion."

"Veela, right?" She held up the ring he stupidly picked up at Blaise's stupid fair. "I thought of that." She moved her wand again and the top popped open, the scent of it filling the air. He could smell ink, the kind at used at Hogwarts, heavy on iron, almost indistinguishable from blood. Then he smelled something musty, like an old book.

Honestly, it took an appallingly long time ever after he recognized the smell of Hermione's hair before he realized the implications. "You...how?"

When he peered closer, he could see the distinctive swirls inside the blue depths. The bottle was only a third full, which he hoped meant it would be too weak to work. But even a few swallows of the world's strongest love potion was nothing to brush off.

He tried to stall. "Don't you think it's time you told me who I'm about to spend the rest of my life with?"

She smiled enigmatically, then sighed. "Oh, I can't deny you anything. I'll give a hint. We shared a wondrous magical kiss. Then you were frightened of your feelings for me."

Draco nearly choked. "Pansy?!"

She immediately looked angry. "That stupid bitch?! No!"

That didn't narrow it down, most witches didn't like her. Pansy had always wielded her popularity like an Unforgivable. "Astoria?"

She let out a huff as she sneered, waving a hand. "I'll forgive you that one. I should have known you'd never think badly of me. But I promise you, once the night is done, you'll see I did this for the both of us. Now, if you don't do it willingly, I'll have to make you." It was a simple statement and all the more chilling for it.

"Maybe if we just-" As he spoke his hand shot out, hoping to just knock it out of the air and eliminate the problem all together.

Unfortunately…

It rose out of his reach, the witch wearing Lavender's face shrieking in fury as she then pointed her wand at him.

He moved, but the ends of the ropes caught him. She cast it over and over again, even when he fell when the second and third caught him around the chest and legs. The extra layers were so tight he struggled to breathe, even when she pushed him on his back.

Her mouth pursed, she held the vial with its contents sadly still intact. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. Infatuation is terrible, isn't it? Don't worry, you'll never even think about her again soon." She moved her robes aside primly and straddled his hips as she gazed down at him.

"Don't...don't…" he gasped, somewhat glad she wasn't sitting on his chest. He didn't want to actually die.

She touched his forehead, fingers trailing down to his cheek tenderly. "After you drink, I'll unbind you. I promise to be gentle from now on, when I slowly peel away the layers between us." She leaned closer, licking the pink lips and pressing her mouth to his neck. "I won't let anyone come between us."

At first she simply trailed her lips along the side of his neck before nipping neatly at the skin. She sucked each spot that her teeth touch with a small pop before moving. Pushing herself up with her hands on his chest, her tongue curled around his ear as her breath heated the wet skin.

He still was struggling to breath, almost wishing he'd suffocate now. Closing his lips was hard to do for long though, not able to get a deep enough breath through his nose.

And he had never been so glad to be bound by more rope than cloth. He couldn't feel more than the pressure of her hands on his chest, and she couldn't touch skin below his neck.

"Is it true Veela's wait for their Mate?" she whispered in his ear. "I can't wait to be your first. And every abuse I've suffered, every time I've been used will just wash away under the purity of our love. You'll be my first too, in my heart."

Several hot drops of liquid slid down the side of his face, and he wasn't sure whose it was.

 _SLAM!_

The loud noise shocked her upright, another bang sounding like a door hitting a wall. Instead of reaching for her wand she fumbled with the option and slammed it down, cutting his lip as the neck clicked against his teeth.

"NO!" Another voice screamed as the liquid mostly slid over his tongue and down his spasming throat.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Well.

Uhh, review if you want and hope you're looking forward to the next installment!

Oh and 'common' ink, the kind used for a super long time, often smells strongly of iron, which is very close to the metallic scent of blood. Sometimes other ingredients are added to alter that. I imagine the ink at the Malfoy has the pleasant smell of claret. The more you know!

HMJ


	25. Chapter 24

"Where are the Curse Breakers?"

Hermione did not enjoy cooling her heels in the grand foyer of the Greengrass' mansion. Much like the others before them, the residents did not enjoy being woken up at such an early hour. They were the only ones home that they knew of, and were dubious about helping or allowing access to the rest of their house.

Luckily there was a tactful Auror on hand that was consistently called to handle relations with Purebloods. It was a necessity when the Head Auror was Harry Potter. The issue was also that she was not an Auror. Harry pointed out that their careers were to ensure that others followed the laws, not broke them, and however ironic that was, she should remember that.

Hermione hated having her own words used against her.

She looked at the copy she made of the instructions given to them by Tracey, the original in the hands of the Aurors. When the wizards around her were distracted, she sneakily cast a _Homenum Revelio_. Four pale markers appeared before her and something inside of her snapped.

The directions had been clear and easy. She walked further into the house where the sitting room was, spotted the bust of Merlin, and reached behind it. Pressing her fingers against the base of its skull made a small click and a portion of the window seat disappeared.

Being privy to information on many house raids, especially shortly after the war, it amazed her how many of these large old houses had secret areas of the house. Of course, they almost always led somewhere where dark secrets were kept. She missed those days in Hogwarts when secret passages led to places like the kitchen and sweet shops.

Though technically Hogwarts also had a Muggleborn-killing Basilisk in its most famous hidden place.

Climbing down the steep staircase that appeared in the window seat, Hermione cast a Patronus with no message and conjured up her favorite bluebell flames so that she avoid breaking her neck on the steps.

The hidden floor was utterly ordinary. Two closed doors and one open study that had many books that were obviously not legal. Most books didn't need to be hidden behind a glass display with ancient runes etched on the front.

Curiosity drove her closer, able to pick out the runes for anonymity and safety. She could have stayed to study the rest, but a prickling down her spine sent her back to the doors. Two. Both were heavily warded and silenced, but only one, through further examination, had an extra layer added on recently.

It was not like the other spells or signatures at all, but she hadn't the time to examine it further as she dismantled each one as carefully as snipping a thread.

Even though the Curse Breakers would frown heavily on this, she did not simply move them in displacement. These would be in tatters by the time she was finished, but she felt safe in the fact the other door had nearly identical spells.

The last hurdle was the lock. It responded to neither simple Unlocking spells nor complex, which meant it was either blood warded or password protected. This deep inside the bowels of a Pureblood house she was guessing it was the former.

Muttering an apology to Harry, who was in charge of the case, she sent a terrific blast of power that weakened the frame enough that the door slammed open.

A familiar spill of blond hair on the female hunched over a very bound pair of legs, she couldn't see anything else for a dizzying moment except the blonde - Lavender? - turning toward her then bringing something down on the person's face. Draco, she knew without seeing.

"NO!" she yelled, wand at the read as she sent fake Lavender flying. It had only taken a moment to know it certainly bloody wasn't her friend.

Because Hermione had ignored the simple rule of not rescuing someone you care about, she thought nothing of dashing to Draco's side immediately. There was blood on his face, but only a bit, and a tiny blue bottle by his face. It was infinitely better than a knife in some ways. In every other, she had no idea what he was given. It was a nondescript bottle one could buy in any store and fill with poison or worse.

Draco stared up at her, hair sticking up and wild silver eyes and pink wet marks on his neck.

Regret and pain welled up inside of her for what he must have endured and she immediately banished the ropes. Then she had her arms full of fake Lavender because of course she paid more attention to Draco than the attacker.

Twisting around, Hermione clamped both hands on the witch's forearms as she threw their weight to the side. Witch landed first and hard, while Hermione wrenched a knee into her abdomen and groped for her fallen wand.

It wasn't there. She frantically looked around for precious seconds.

"Don't...don't hurt her." Draco was breathing hard, one hand clutching his chest. He was still gasping for air even when silent, her wand in his hand.

"I've got it under control, Draco," she said calmly, her hold and weight enough to keep the Witch subdued, albeit making soft whimpering sounds. Hermione looked back down at Witch, lips curving in a disdainful frown. "You won't be able to get anyone's hair in Azkaban."

Without warning a wave slammed into her and she went skidding along the floor, landing mercifully short of the unforgiving wall.

"Don't you EVEN SPEAK TO HER! You're nothing compared to her!"

Hermione was thankful for her charmed robes at that moment, saving her from the weak spell. She twisted around, one aching arm barely holding her weight. She was mostly confused. "What?"

Those would be bloody moronic last words, she thought, as Draco lifted her wand again. His mouth moved and a purple light filled her vision.

She could see the ajar door gape open from the angle she laid in. Lots of crimson robes, like blood pouring out of a wound. Harry was there, taking her wand from Draco in a practiced move. He looked like school-age Harry for a second, his hair wildly messy and his green eyes focused behind those same glasses while casting in short frantic motions.

Was he ever going to get new glasses? She'd have to talk to Ginny about that soon. Maybe she'd just tell him herself. But when he knelt by her his mouth moved without words, which was silly. Everything felt floaty, that was almost nice.

She put her head on his chest because he was her best friend, he was safe, and she was going to sleep now.

* * *

Lavender sat in St. Mungo's, fingers tracing nervous circles on her knees over and over. She did not like it here. But she promised to come.

She had barely gotten any sleep, what with the disappearance/kidnapping, the talk with Parvati, and holding anxious hands with Ginny. It was hard not being in the fight and hearing everything long after it happened.

Before she could delve too deeply into memories a wizard sat beside her. "I came as quickly as I could."

"Blaise!" She wasn't sure whether to smile or frown, but she was pathetically grateful to see him. "I thought you'd be sleeping!" Of course she sent a note to him, but hadn't expected it would be read. Writing had just made her felt better.

"I got a few hours after sunrise." He spoke with just a hint of extra pronunciation in his words, but otherwise he looked as well put together and handsome as always. "Snape's Wolfsbane kept me going to class even during the full moon as long as I worked in extra sleep before sunset. If I can go to class, I can be here." He started to lean forward, but then stopped.

For an absurd moment she thought he had been about to kiss her cheek. Shaking off the thought, she nodded and looked upward. "Still, thank you. Everyone else is waiting in the rooms near the main area." The Spell Damage floor was by no means a quiet floor, but this far from the regular residents it was utterly silent save for the occasional Mediwizard walking by.

Blaise looked up at the sign over the door proclaiming the Janus Thickey Ward, sobering. "Will he be there long? I did read your note, but.."

"It wasn't very specific." Lavender nodded. She tried to keep her hands still. "It depends on the strength of the love potion and if it was correctly made. Normally you can tell just by looking at it, but there wasn't any left in the bottle and neither are able to talk." Talking about the mundane details of the case kept her together.

Blaise dragged his eyes away from the door and back to her, placing one hand on top of hers. His movements were slower than normal, careful instead of casual. Even she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't spent quite a bit of time watching him. "Why isn't Daphne talking?"

She shook her head. "She's just the same as him, crazed that they have to be apart. It was confirmed that she dosed herself with the Amortentia."

"That's a bit crazy." Blaise raised an eyebrow, brow furrowing in thought. "So she's been stalking him under the pretense of working with Patil and downed the strongest love potion in the world to…what?"

"I don't know. Parvati confirmed it was her she worked with. Maybe Daphne thought it would be romantic. She was married and had a lover, I'm guessing there were parts of her life that she wanted gone." To say nothing of the other bits and pieces she heard in the past few hours about all those involved.

Blaise had apparently forgotten he had his hands on hers, because it was still there. She daren't move and remind him. "Would you," he started, "take a potion if it could erase all your doubts and give you a single purpose?"

Lavender thought about this seriously. If she could not feel such pain over her parents' abandonment, if she could just stop fighting all the time in her head? That was the problem with war, that some part of you never left it.

His thumb made a restless stroke over the back of her hand. She closed her eyes, but opened them again right away. "I should probably say no. That all the hardships in my life have been worth it because I'm a different person than I was then."

He didn't say anything, only kept his hand on hers and waited.

"But I liked myself back then. I was pretty and bold and wore my heart on my sleeve. I know I was also selfish and oblivious. But I'd rather have worked on being caring than dig myself back out this self-made hole I've made for myself."

He seemed saddened by her words, in ways that made her heart flutter with hope. "I don't think you made it." He opened his mouth to continue, but the door beside her opened.

A short and elderly Healer stopped next to her, a sheath of papers in one hand. "You may visit with him now, everything checked out." It wasn't easy to visit the closed rooms in Janus Thickey Ward for the first time and Lavender threw a quick look at Blaise in concern. He wasn't here when she filled them out.

"Thank you, Healer Dorn. Can, umm.."

However, the Healer just took a look at them both and opened the door. Blaise and her followed Dorn past the open rooms with residents who weren't a danger to anyone to a locked door. The Healer did a complicated hand movement over the latch and let them both in. A burly wizard sat by the desk and took their wand to do a diagnostic before sending them through again.

Dorn brought them to a door in short order with a reminder to avoid using magic in the rooms as much as possible. Lavender carefully tucked her wand away before entering the room.

Draco certainly would have hated it if he was in his right mind. Soothing blue walls, fuzzy dark orange furniture and cushioned floors the shade of bright purple.

"Was the last resident blind?" Blaise muttered under his breath.

The bed was very close to the ground and Draco was on it, one of his arms extended because it was bound to the headboard. There was a squat table next to him with a covered tray and several facial toiletries. Tissue, toothbrush, haircomb.

"It's just you two." His voice was bitter as the last dregs of tea. Even though Draco's face was clean and his hair straightened, the skin under his eyes were puffy with lack of sleep.

"Hello, Draco." Lavender took a seat next to the bed, but not within arm's reach. She could respect the warnings they kept giving, even though she was not afraid of him.

The bound wizard simply sent them a sour look, silver eyes with those dilated pupils flipping from her to Blaise. "You two are like an interchangeable Beauty and the Beast. At least for three nights a month."

It doesn't bother Lavender, but Blaise sits up straighter and growls. A legitimate, hair-raising, guttural growl that reminds her that last night and tonight he would be transformed into something that killed. Save for the grace of a potion.

"Down, dog." Draco sneers at Blaise, before snapping his fingers. "Also interchangeable!" He laughed.

Lavender moves to grip Blaise's arm as he stands up, sending him a sharp look. "If you can't handle this…"

It was the only time he'd seen her cross or angry, and that seems to calm him down. She released her hand when he sits back down, tamping down the urge to apologize. He could walk right out and never speak to her again. Lowering her eyes to hide the very real fear pounding in her chest, she turned her head toward Draco. "You're angry with us."

The malicious laughter instantly warped into anger, so much anger. "Of course I am! You're keeping me from her! I shouldn't be locked up like this, like _I'm_ the animal, right Blaise? I'm so sorry I helped overturn that law that would have kept you out of hospitals. It's like a feast for you, isn't it?"

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, watching the way he strained against the invisible tie around his wrist. Not even to get at them, but to just get away. He was paler than normal as well, the soft cloth on his body sticking in sweaty patches. She may not feel the way about him as she might Blaise, but he was still a wizard and deserved some dignity.

Blaise, however, had turned a cold eye on the scene. "I know it's the potion talking," he said stiffly.

"Fuck off," he spat.

There was no way that anyone else could visit him in this condition. He was worse than teenage Draco. Maddened was the only way she could describe it. This, this is why potent love potions were illegal.

"We'll still be here when you're healed." Lavender murmured, nodding slowly.

"I'm not broken!" Draco shook his arm, but of course it didn't budge and nothing rattled. "Whatever happened to a person is a person no matter what? I'm in love with Daphne, and she's in love with me. You tell me right now why we can't leave together. Where are your high-minded principles now?! There's nothing else **wrong** with me!"

She didn't know when her hand found Blaise's, but she was gripping it tightly now. There were lots of things crowding in her head that she could say. 'If you love her, then you should love her when the potion is out of your system' or try to reason with him on the merits of him not even remembering Daphne existed before this. But she had reason to doubt this would have any impact right now.

She shook her head slowly, never looking away from him. "I believe in you, Draco. You'll come through this."

The lines of Draco's face deepened, as if he were in pain, as if sorrow touched his wide eyes. Then it was gone. "I hope she's dead. I hope I killed her for coming between us."

Blaise reached out to turn her face against his shoulder as she muffled a sound of distress. He didn't say anything, just gently massaged the back of her neck while she gained a measure of composure.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Yay update! Right?

HMJ

* * *

 **Personal Notes:**

Soooo long between updates, I'm the worst. For those that read my crossover, I did end up writing the extended one-shot in (nearly) one night in efforts to feel better. I've been pretty broken up about my own little furry companion. Been working through it, but sometimes grief knocks me right back down on my butt. To say life isn't fair would be putting it lightly, wouldn't it?

Anyway I did want to share awesome news with you (that I was a lot more excited about before all this happened, but will be excited about again).

I have a book up, if anyone is looking for one to read.

 **Bound: Academy of Shifters**

Hanna Maria Jones

Summary: Haven is devastated when she doesn't Change by the full moon like the rest of her family. The House of Egemen takes her in with the promise of giving her the future she was meant to have in return for serving for the rest of her life. She accepts her fate until she meets silver-eyed Andrew Joiner, who brings freedom and danger in equal measures.

It is set in the same world as the first, but can be read as a stand-alone.


	26. Chapter 25

It was like swimming through an endless ocean of the deepest blues and purples. Nothing hurt, everything was serene and gentle. She floated on top and let time pass, if there was time in such a place as this.

Sometimes she felt a tug. Sometimes she heard words too. One in particular was repeated often, but it didn't sound like a word she knew. It was just a funny jumble of letters, but it happened again and again in different voices.

 _Hermione._

A sharper tug jerked her down as she repeated the word. She flailed her arms when she broke the surface again, gasping even though there was no sensation or air.

 _Hermione!_

It happened again and she went under the water, clawing at nothing as she sank down. At first she still felt nothing, but her vision went dark and the pressure began.

She tried to scream as the pressure crushed at her from all sides, no matter how much she fought or kicked the pain never stopped.

Hermione sat up as air filled her mouth and burned down her throat. Her eyes opened and there was a whole lot of white, white walls, pale floor, white blanket covering her lap. But he was very colorful, the shapes by her sides, bright red on top and white below it with blue eyes and tons of freckles.

"Hermione?" A white, freckled strange shape loomed toward her person and coolness touched her hand.

"Ron?" She knew who he was, of course, she knew who she was too. Shaking her head, she turned her hand to cup his. His skin was cold though. "Am I dreaming?"

"No, you're here." Relief colored his words, though he wasn't smiling. He looked tired. "You gave us a right scare."

Did she? She remembered...oh. Oh. She experimentally moved her fingers, they hurt. Sitting up hurt, but she was only aware of it in waves and flickers. "I've never heard of a spell with these effects."

"It's pretty esoteric." Ron agreed solemnly. "The Healers said you were in there, but your soul was loose."

"Loose?" A chill ran down her back as a memory floated up of various spells she had read while searching for information on horcruxes. A horcrux split the soul, the Killing curse sent it out of the body, and Dementors ate them...but those were far from the only ways to mess with a soul. "I'm glad it was figured out. How long have you been here?" The panic she thought she'd feel when sitting down with him again didn't rise up, and for that she was glad.

"Two days, roughly."

"Two days?!" That was unexpected. She touched her hair, which felt like sandpaper and tangles, staring at him in confusion. "How long have I _been_ here?"

"Three days. It took some time for the message to come my way, plus travel time." Ron appeared apologetic, his hand retreating back to his side. "We've been taking turns waiting."

He did sound tired to boot. She looked around, but couldn't get a feel for the time of day. Three days wasn't so bad, really. Waking up after being Petrified had been much more of a shock. Not to mention the resulting talk with her parents.

"I'm sorry, you look terrible."

"Thanks." He managed a smile before taking out his wand and sending a Patronus out. "Um, before anyone gets here…"

Now she felt panic. Dread literally spread from her abdomen to her toes and fingers like falling from great heights. He could say almost anything and she'd have no defense.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking while sitting here. You were so still, you know? If you never woke up...the thought of the funeral, my life after…"

Hermione curled her fingers in the sheets even though it felt like clenching broken glass.

He continued, nervously. "It was like a big hole, full of emptiness. You and Harry, you know, you're...it. My, um, everything." Red crept along his cheeks as he stared at her rumpled sheets. "I just wanted to tell you that."

Tears sprang up hot and agonizing in her eyes. The guilt drained out of her, leaving her touched and brimming with both sorrow and joy. She held out her arms.

Ron moved hesitantly, hugging her lightly as if she might break. His cheek, stubbly and warm, rested against the side of her head.

The door opened then and Harry and Ginny poured in, their faces displaying anxious hope. It became relief at seeing her up, and the world came back into focus for her. The gentle hugs and concerned babble filled the next few hours as they filled her in on the facts and asked her if she dreamt anything. She said no.

Draco and Daphne were both in the Janus Thickey Ward dosed up on Amortentia. She'd stand on trial for several things, but she knew MLE protocol like the back of her hand. Unless someone could prove she was clear-headed before the kidnapping, chances were it would be, at most, probation. It was crime under coercion and that was a very grey area, taken advantage of by many a Death Eater.

"I'll take over from here." Harry convinced Ron to go home and get some rest, promising to take over informing the others about her change of condition. She squeezed his fingers before he left and felt such a weight lift from her shoulders. Ginny left to inform her family in person after another tender hug with Hermione.

Hermione was exhausted by the time it was just Harry. She laid back on her pillow and let him cast Cooling charms on her sheets and bed. But his hand remained on hers and that was fine, it kept her anxiety about...others... floating just at bay.

* * *

"What's the timeline for you getting out of here, anyway?"

Ginny was supporting Hermione's elbow as she walked along a short beam and wobbled a bit.

"A few more days of therapy and they'll re-evaluate." Hermione focused hard on her feet, but she was clearly frustrated. "My strength is fine, but the balance could use some work. I keep telling them I'm not going to hop on a broom anytime soon so that's not an issue."

"Do you want me to have Harry talk to them?"

"Oh no, you know he doesn't like using his name to pull strings."

"He'd do it for you though."

Lavender was sitting in one of the chairs in the large room, gazing around at the slew of equipment. Balls the size of sofas, pulleys suspended mid-air, wood chairs with arm-sized flaps. She wasn't sure what all of them did, some were...strange.

Blaise's time of month had came and gone and she was splitting her time between W.A.G., sleep, and visiting Hermione. The damage wasn't so clean-cut as waving a wand over it, but Lavender was familiar with that. Besides, she just sat and worked while Ginny or Harry or Ron helped her with her exercises. She saw more people walking in and out to visit during normal hours than that, but those three came the most.

It made Lavender think of how many people might come to visit her. Certainly not her own family. But Hermione definitely would, Ginny as well...probably Blaise. He was such a good friend.

Nerves made her palms sweaty and thoughts race. She had thought before meeting him again that everything in her life was fine and she was coping well, but that turned out to be a lie. She got nervous in public places and avoided her mirror, she never accepted invites to events or meetups, the few that still sporadically came in. She didn't really recover from the war completely. Oh, and she was ridiculously head over heels for Blaise.

It finally came to the time where Lavender was considering how much longer she could be his friend without bursting out with this new knowledge and ruining everything.

"Let's take a break." Ginny was helping Hermione limp over to the chair next to Lavender.

Hermione sunk in the chair gratefully and smiled at her. "I can help with that if you want. I'm not doing much else except sit around."

"You need your rest." Lavender said as she had many times in the past four days, gently. "You have to let others help you."

Hermione sighed but she didn't seem too upset.

"I'm going to check see what they're serving." Ginny touched Hermione's shoulder lightly and left. She was still cautious and squeezing or touching Hermione's bare skin, even though the witch swore it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as when she woke up.

When she left the silence changed, more filled with tension.

"Um, how's Blaise?"

"He's fine. He came by yesterday, but you were asleep."

"Oh. You'll have to tell him I said sorry to miss him."

Lavender looked away, trying to shake the unease in her chest. She knew what Hermione wanted to ask, and Hermione knew she knew, but neither of them wanted to be the first.

Finally sucking in a deep breath, Hermione turned to her with a determined air. "Have you visi-"

The door opened and a Healer peeked his head in. "No falls today?" he joked in greeting, as always.

Hermione deflated and sat back against her chair. "Not today. I'm saving that for my last day." She smiled back at him.

Healer Nash walked in further, doing a preliminary check up with his wand. He was young and had an enthusiastic personality, never solemn or reserved. "Don't say such things! You know I'd panic and you'd hex me to get out of here." Her wish to leave was well-known.

"I wouldn't hex you, probably." Hermione joked back and lifted up her arms to help with the exam, avoiding Lavender's eye.

* * *

"I don't know, I just don't think it's a good idea." Blaise twisted a chip in a small bowl of vinegar, he preferred dipping to pouring it on.

Lavender twisted her hand underneath the table, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. "I know. I'm just worried about her." She took one of her own and let the tip linger over his bowl. It was going to happen soon and there was little she could do to stop it.

He said nothing so she swirled it inside and tried a bite. Holy hat of Gryffindor that was strong! She breathed out and in quickly, the pungent taste filling her nose.

He laughed at her. "Not a fan?"

"Just never tried it." She pinched her nose to quell the burn, though it was fading at least. "Always turned my nose up at vinegar." At one point she used to glare at her dates if they'd order such a thing in Hogsmeade because it meant their kisses might taste bad. She never risked it either, and the poor boy had to walk back up to the castle alone while she went off with the Patils.

Youth, how fickle she could be.

"Do you like it?"

"It's not bad." She dipped just the tip this time and popped the whole of it in her mouth. It was more bearable this time, though the flavor still sent her saliva glands into overdrive. She swallowed. "I could get used to it." Sprinkling on extra salt like he had, she took another bite.

No, it wasn't bad. She did end up drinking much more water though.

"This is a nice place." Blaise looked around. It was, even though it was tiny and Muggle, not too far from her little place. "It's strange to think we have the same food Muggles do when the preparation is so much different."

"I guess it's the age old question whether magic imitates manual methods or vice versa."

"Mmm, I think Muggles must have made fish and chips worse."

"Why is that?"

"You said it was cooked in a lot of oil, right?"

"Yes."

Blaise shook his head and winked at her. "Muggles, definitely."

Lavender tamped all efforts her body made to send blood rushing up to her cheeks. Why did he have to be good-looking, friendly, charming, and single? At least if he had a girlfriend she could keep her head firmly out of the clouds.

"We should continue to go to Wizarding establishments though. If nothing else to see if they're following the law." Lavender said more out of grasping for a topic than actually wishing to subject him to prejudice. But he seemed to find such delight in staring a store owner right in the eye and reciting the law to them.

"I thought we'd just have a nice lunch today. Promise tomorrow we'll take a stroll down to _The Green Flame_." It was a very popular traveler's destination smackdab in Muggle London, boasting Floos that went nearly anywhere. International travelers needed a license from the Ministry, but once they had that they could also use the Flame without the long line.

"As long as you do all the talking."

"That's what I'm being paid for."

She smiled at that. Of course he wasn't, he did it for the sake of rights and that was amazing. She could never have imagined she'd be sitting in a tiny shop in a Muggle neighborhood with ice-cold Blaise Zabini who made Malfoy's glares look like a four year old's tantrum. To her, anyway.

Lavender looked at her nearly empty basket of chips, worrying at her bottom lip. She could ask him to dinner, a non-business dinner. She should. They spent time together, he wouldn't think of anything of it. But wait, if he thought nothing of it…

Something less safe? She needed to take a _risk._ But every time she tried to think of how to bring it up, each sentence sounded worse than the last.

' _Would you like to go out on a date with me?'_ Too formal.

' _I think you're very nice and handsome, do you like me too?'_ Childish.

' _Are you interested in anyone to perhaps date?_ ' What was that?

She wanted to be clear enough for an answer if it was yes but also subtle enough that if he weren't interested he'd have no idea she just propositioned him. What phrase accomplished _that_?

If he was interested in anyone, why wouldn't he tell her? They spent plenty of time together. And if he wanted to date her, he'd have let her know by now. Blaise was not a shy nor timid person.

Oh _no_ , she was that person! The person who hung around another pretending to be their friend while trying to think of ways to be more! That was terrible!

"Is everything all right? You're pale." Blaise lowered his voice, searching her face.

Lavender raised her eyes to his, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking I had to send off additional records to Hermione."

"I was worried it was the vinegar." He had such an adorable half-smile, boyish and sweet all at once. "Want some company?"

"Oh no, it's not even for W.A.G. I'll Owl you if I can go tomorrow."

His eyebrows rose a little at the ambiguity, but he only smiled and threw away their rubbish.

By the time Lavender was home alone she sat down with a fresh piece of parchment. Not to say she wouldn't send those documents, but Hermione really didn't need them until tomorrow.

 _Blaise,_

 _You have been a wonderful friend. You're courageous, bold, and know how to laugh at yourself. I admire those traits greatly, I wish I had more of that myself. I wanted you to know that when I hear love songs on the wireless, I think about you. When you walk me to the door, I want to invite you in just to spend more time with you._

 _I'm not sure when it happened, but my feelings for you became more than just friendly. You aren't obligated to return those feelings either, but I wanted to be honest with you and myself. We can continue to be friends, if you wish, because I would be happy to enjoy your company regardless._

 _I want you to be happy, no matter what that means. If you would like to have dinner, I'll be at The Giggling Harpy at six o'clock tomorrow evening._

Lavender stared at the letter for a long time, trying to decide what to add. This was all either very cowardly of her, writing it in a letter and asking him out, and very brave, writing a letter and giving him an out.

 _Knock knock!_

Lavender quickly folded the letter and stuffed it under the documents she was supposed to be working on before getting up to answer the door.

* * *

"I have all the documents in order and clearly marked each. Here's the summarization of my reasoning for ending the House Arrest early, attached to letters from the Head of the MLE and their probation Aurors."

Hermione slid copies of the parchments she wrote to Kingsley and Chief Warlock Tofty.

Much like Kingsley, Tofty had been awarded his title as a temporary measure after the war and it just stuck. They both had impeccable reputations, to the winning side anyway. The only problem was that sometimes when Tofty nodded off she had to resist the urge to stick a hand under his huge nose to see if he was still breathing.

Tofty leaned his nearly bald head down and squinted through his pince-nez glasses. "Thank you!" His voice was still just as old and quavery as before, making it hard to understand. What was worse, he had finally succumbed to being nearly as hard-of-hearing as Professor Marchbanks.

"I won't go over the details of each of their trials again, since we were all in attendance, but…"

"How are you healing up, Ms. Granger?" Tofty asked, as if he hadn't heard a word. Perhaps he hadn't.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"What?"

"I'M FINE." She cast a look at Kingsley, who shrugged. She hadn't been expecting just the two wizards for this meeting, but she had a feeling that nobody cared anymore by the time she got to work again. This was clearly a formality, but it was a mandatory formality because they couldn't just drop it, oh no. She had other places to be today.

"It was the Malfoy boy, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but-"

"What?" He squinted at her through those old glasses.

"YES, BUT HE WAS UNDER MAGICAL INFLUENCE."

"Oh, right, right… We just had the eldest Greengrass daughter's trial. Part-Veela too, guess we shouldn't be surprised by all this."

"A what?" Hermione blinked. She hadn't been able to attend all of the trial, though she did get to speak.

"I said she's part-Veela."

"No, I mean...HOW DO YOU KNOW?"

"She had a ring on her, clearly written on the runes they said. Some go bad, you know, the nature of any creature or person."

"Right," Hermione mumbled, trying to remember what she was saying before this. "Um, I have marked down Draco Malfoy's attendance and his parent's contributions after the war." She had been initially worried Tofty, being around for every single Malfoy trial, might point out their habit of using money to gain favor.

However, he just peered at the paper closely she handed out, nose practically pressed against the parchment. "You say this was agreed on by all these people?"

Hermione nodded widely so he'd see. "Yes, sir."

"Then why are we here?" He looked at Kingsley for confirmation.

"It became a matter of public scrutiny." Kingsley's bass-deep voice was heard just fine by Tofty, she noticed.

Tofty shook his head and continued to read. Slowly. So slowly that she had time to reach over her initial dissertation and sort through her copies of official records.

"What did the ring look like?" she suddenly asked, as if it hadn't been nagging at the back of her mind.

"Pretty thing with a stone like fire. Seen a few of those in my days, usually heirlooms."

"Ah." Hermione frowned at her hands, ignoring Kingsley's inquisitive look. "Do you want to take those home to read?"

Tofty fished out a particular letter. "Is this from Harry Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Amazingly determined, that boy, very advanced knowledge. You can tell a lot by the wandwork of a wizard or witch, you know."

"That's great. Do you need to take the records with you and come back with an answer?"

Tofty went back to reading, reaching out to turn a parchment over. It took ages before it was on the table and he began reading again.

She looked pleadingly at Kingsley, who actually had the audacity to look amused. She leaned over slightly. "It's not treason to hex the Minister, Minister."

"What was that?" Tofty asked, looking up at her.

Bugger it all. She smiled and said nicely as she could, "WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAKE THE PAPERS HOME?"

"Let's finish it today." He wheezed out a chuckle. "And no need to yell, dear girl."

Hermione slumped back in her chair and let her head fall back in defeat.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Stuff stuff and more stuff! Hey lovelies, I actually got myself a Twitter and tumblr. Those are things some of you probably do, right? For a young person I'm ridiculously new to technology (wasn't allowed stuff till I moved out on my own) but other writers do it and I wanna be cool too XD

Anyway, if you're interested, I put the details below!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm still catching up on responding to reviews, but it's happening slowly but surely :D I think I'll focus on the latest ones first, but NOT because the earlier ones are any less important to me!

Tumblr: erosandpsychescribbles

Twitter: HannaMariaJones erosnpsyche94


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